Dimension
by Kitala
Summary: What if you were placed into the world of your dreams? What if you were thrust back into your own hellish world only to take your loved ones with you? A story focusing on Alucard/Adrian Tepes.
1. Meeting The Tepes Family

Chapter 1

Meeting The Tepes Family

Disclaimer: I do not own Castlevania. This story is based off of the wonderful story Abnormality by Slinky-and-the-BloodyWands. I do, however, own the character of Valeria. To get the whole story go check out Slinky's story, though much of what happened is implied or hinted at here. This story picks up on a thought I had whilst reading Abnormality- what if where Adrian was sent really was another dimension in which events (ex: Sonia and Maria) were much closer together and Adrian was human, along with Vlad. I've started this out a little slowly to give a feel for the characters without it being one huge text, and the second chapter will be posted very soon.

Adrian Tepes turned upon his mattress, immediately squinting against the golden light of early morning and burying his head back into the hard, simple pillows that adorned his small bed. Ever so slowly he raised his head again, one pale arm extended over his eyes to block out some of the light from the window overtop where his bed rested against a rough wooden and plaster wall. Eventually he lay looking up, stormy eyes adjusting to the bright light enough that blocks of darkness didn't wane his vision, replaced instead with the dancing of small dust motes in the early morning light of his bedroom. This _human's_ bedroom, where his mother, alive and well, had assured him that the waking in a coffin in the dead of winter, watching the woman in front of him burn in the hysteria of angry villagers, the sin of patricide against a once loving father, and his own damned existence was nothing more than a passing madness- delusions brought on by a transient but burning sickness.

He heard the quick patter of small feet outside his door and the giggling of a voice belonging to a child of about eight and then a calmer voice and footsteps accompanying them belonging to a woman. Lisa opened Adrian's door and soft sea blue eyes rested on her son, the corners of her mouth curved into a small smile as she took in the tousled platinum hair, far too long, and the slight wrinkling of his nose as the door let in more slivers of sunlight that illuminated his pale complexion in rows of golden light. She strode into the room, her simple cotton dress making light swishing noises against the hardwood of the floor, though her slippers made barely a scratching noise, she was so light footed. She laid a cool hand over his forehead before pulling over a simple wooden chair that faced his bed and lowering herself into it.

"And how are you feeling today, love?" she asked, her voice held a tint of worry but was smooth as honey and warm as a summer's day.

Adrian took a moment to reply but in his low, cultured voice finally responded, "I feel… content."

Lisa offered him a quizzical look, head propped to one side, smile faltering slightly, but continued, "content enough to eat breakfast downstairs with the rest of us, my son?" She reached over and ruffled his hair gently when he nodded, "then you'd best prepare- we'll be ready in about ten minutes."

~~~*~~~

Adrian exited his room, pulling finely boned fingers through long, flaxen hair, separating curls, watching in a bored fascination from the corner of his eye how they seemed to blur, growing fuzzy and less connected with the movement through them only to rejoin, a little less tight, a few minutes later. He had put on a simple white linen shirt and thick brown corduroy breeches with soft doe skin slippers for in the house and as he lowered his hand from his hair he stopped it. The man licked his lips briefly, noting how the tinge of pink in his skin offset the sheer white of the linen instead of blending into it, much like he was used to. His other life- the life that he wished seemed further away than it was- his life as the immortal half-bred son of a tyrant…

He was shaken out of his reverie when the patter of small feet caught his attention and a young child nearly careened into him. He caught her small, delicate hands in his own and glanced over into a surprised face with hair of the palest spun gold, much like Adrian's own, and warm coffee brown eyes, with an ever present blush suffusing the cheeks of an otherwise pale pallor, though not as extreme as his own. The girls' expression fell into a cheeky grin and she chirped, "you'd better have the mind to finish breakfast this time, Adrian, or Mum promised she'd spoon feed you next- and that I'll just _have_ to see!" she giggled before pushing away and disappearing as quickly as she'd arrived.

As Adrian reached the breakfast table he saw a regal looking man with grey streaking his well kept black hair, his white linen shirt, simple but clean and much like the one his son wore, tucked into in to light grey trousers of cotton twill, lightening up his aged appearance far more than Dracula's heavy black and red brocade. However his appearance may have changed though, his appearance brightened with laugh lines and light materials as well as burdened with a mortal age, this was unmistakeably the same man that Adrian had both loathed and mourned over for an unbearably long existence.

Lisa, for her part, still looked soft and gentle, large eyes wide and sea blue, reflecting kindness, and body supple and strong despite her age, which had only just begun to spin select strands of her golden tresses the silver of the elderly. A light purple spencer jacket of thick wool was placed with her thick brown linen skirts, guarding her against the sparkling wintry bluster just beyond the doorway, barely visible from the thickly frosted windows.

Maria, her belly just beginning to show with child, walked the short distance from the next room, slipping in beside her husband's empty seat, hair shining like strands of gold where it was tied into a bun, the bottom half left loose to slip around her shoulders and down her back, spilling over her deep green cotton dress, lighting hazel orbs that scanned the table before glancing to Lisa, offering help with setting breakfast, which was quickly declined by the older woman.

It didn't take long for the child to re-enter the kitchen, falling into giggles when Vlad pulled her up onto his lap as she tried to run past, her little cotton nightdress providing little against the chill morning and her thick, ice blue wool housecoat doing little to help lying on the hardwood floors on the other side of the room. "Valeria," Vlad sighed, giving her a quick squeeze before allowing her to squirm off of his lap and away again, "go put your housecoat on before you catch cold, child," he insisted wearily. "And Adrian, my boy, come sit. It's good to have you back sitting with us, like a proper family," he urged.

Adrian pressed his lips together tightly, glancing at Lisa with a furrowed brow before stepping fully into the room. Lisa offered him a kind smile, placing a petite hand against his shoulder blades and leading him gently to a seat, waiting until he'd sat down before pushing the chair back in once again. Adrian, for his part, sat resolutely staring at the plain wooden plate in front of him. He was haunted by his image of Vlad, the Vlad that was burned into his mind, Vlad the Impaler- Dracula. It was difficult for Adrian to allow himself to replace this jovial _human_ man with the bloodthirsty monster that his vampiric father had become, no matter how sincerely his mother, his father, and his wife had promised him that the entire situation had been a dream. He still found it unbelievable to not remember anything of this life, himself as a human, but wasn't this what he'd always wanted, had yearned for? A normal, human family- himself without his cursed blood, mother alive, but now that he was here this felt so wrong. He had his mother alive again, had normal relationships with both Sonia and Maria, and Maria was carrying his child- _his _child- presumably human, as human as this girl, Valeria, his _sister_, about half his height and less than half his age- without the immortality that constantly worried at the forefront of his mind. Yet as fake as this was, _had_ to be, he couldn't help but wish that it were real, as real as the bond he undoubtedly felt for this family that he had no idea existed until a week before when he woke up in a bed with a cold sweat, sure the creature that had attacked him had killed him with its venom. Yet for all that he found himself unable to believe that this was heaven or, rather, hell, for that was surely the place a creature such as himself would end up in.

~~~*~~~

Dracula paced his chambers, his eyes fixed upon his sons face, though it might as well be carved from porcelain, for all the life it held. Alucard had been set upon in the forest, as far as he could tell, and now lay pallid in his chambers after being found.

Although Dracula did remember the little girl- Revenge personified- that had visited him, and told him how to break the poison upon his son, Dracula was having difficulty making a choice- to allow his son to die blissfully in this sleep, in this 'other world', this 'imaginary world', or to bring him back to suffer more eternal misery. Dracula did not want his son to be miserable, whatever Adrian might think of his father, but Dracula was still, fundamentally, selfish. Although Adrian had shown no inclination to remain home or claim his birthright Dracula could still provoke reaction in his son, thereby maintaining contact with the man- in Dracula's view, his immortal child, for in terms of maturity and Adrian's lifespan he was scarcely midway through his adolescence.

The imposing figure finally looked up from his sons visage, his strong, refined features hardening as he turned on his heel and stalked from the room, a figure of black and red clothing, ice pale flesh, with merciless eyes cold and hard as crimson- dead, yet inexplicably so alive and on fire that they were terrifying to behold.


	2. Decision

I am very sorry that it took so long to get this chapter up. Life got in the way, then school, then life rushed back in with a vengeance. The next chapter should be posted soon, as this was originally one big chapter, and that's where the real action begins, so hang in there! After that I hope to have regular updates as it's summer now and I can't use classes as an excuse. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own Castlevania and the original idea for this fic was inspired by Slinky, as mentioned in the first chapter. Go read her story. Seriously.

**Chapter 2**

**Pulling**

Dracula stood over the body of his prone son, an imposing figure composed of darkness. In contrast Adrian's face was peaceful, his expression a condition of his blissful sleep. Vlad Dracula, for all of his faults, did not want his son to be miserable, but could not help the twinge of irrational jealousy at the bliss of the sleeping man. He was, no doubt, in a place away from all of the chaos and cruelty that steeped both of their lives deeply, but as to what that dream might be Vlad could not fathom.

Adrian had always been strange, the man mused, a miracle that was never meant to be. He was the product of a relationship between Vlad and a human woman, Lisa, in the 1400s. As far as Vlad had known he could not produce a child, much less with a human woman, the mingling of vampire and human genetics supposedly too apart, and perhaps his own genetics too long dead, to have produced a child. Adrian himself was neither human nor vampire, but an odd mixture of each, called a dhampire. The man would have had an easier run of things, Vlad supposed, had he chose one destiny or the other to follow, but Adrian seemed to have developed the lust for blood that Dracula himself possessed, with the conscience of his mother. It was a small wonder that the man wasn't completely insane.

The vampire had earlier been approached by a spirit of vengeance in the form of a small girl who had informed him that he needed to make a choice as payment for a town he had destroyed, a town that had invoked her help. The choice that Vlad needed to make, he'd discovered, was that he could either have his son back, alive and safe, but miserable from the (apparently) wonderful dream he'd been put into, or Vengeance could allow him to stay and live his dreams, but he would never awaken and would eventually die. It was up to Vlad to make the decision of having his son live a miserable life or letting him die happy.

Vlad's lips twisted delicately at this thought, the thought that the town would be audacious enough to call upon Vengeance, and the irony that it would not strike he, the evil creature who preyed on the living, but instead his virtuous and tragically flawed son. The son who had made it his mission to protect these people from his bloodlusting father.

~~~*~~~

Lisa leaned forward into a cupboard, plucking a small, dried plant hanging from a string. "Now I told you what this was and what it's used for. Do you remember, Adrian?" she asked, laughing lightly as the man stopped at the sound of her voice.

His voice was deep and cultured as he spoke, "lavender. You've been using it to help Maria sleep with her pregnancy, haven't you?"

Lisa nodded, tucking some of the fragrant plant in her cream coloured cotton apron, draped around her dark woollen skirts and returning the remainder to its string. "She had been having some trouble sleeping- and by smelling the lavender she will not have to swallow anything that could be potentially harmful to your child," she said, briefly smiling warmly to her son.

Lisa observed her son for a moment; Adrian was so pale that he positively shone in the harsh winter sunlight streaming in from the windows, which turned his flaxen hair golden at the edges. He was very much the antithesis of a typical Romanian man- fine boned and effeminate, porcelain pale with light features and in his white cotton shirt she thought he looked like ethereal. She shook her head of these thoughts and offered him a smile, "I am having Valeria help me prepare the lavender and after that, lunch, I think," she stated, leaving the room.

~~~*~~~

Lisa's apothecary was a small cellar room dimly lit by candle light with rough, scrubbed wooden tables along the walls, thin cupboards with various plants hanging upside down above the tables, three rickety but sturdy stools sanded raw and smooth and an old work bench in the centre of the room, on which lay small, dried yellow flowers, a white marble mortar and pestle that stood starkly against the darkness of the room and a blonde child in a plain muslin dress with patches of stains in various colours across the front of it.

As Lisa stepped into the middle of the room one chocolate brown eye opened, then the other and the girl sat up, disentangling a few strands of her waist length flaxen braid from the rough work bench as she did so. "I have the chamomile ready, mum. But I couldn't reach the bags for it and the lavender," her small mouth turned into a frown. "What took you so long?" she pouted.

The woman smiled gently and cupped the girl's cheek before opening a high cupboard and taking down a small bag made of thin fabric. "Don't pout so, Valeria," she said, her tone gentle and tolerant of the child, "you've been waiting here for perhaps ten minutes, not that long at all. And I was speaking with your brother," she explained, plucking the purple flowered plant from her apron and beginning to work swiftly, separating the petals from the base of the plant.

The child didn't reply as each got to their jobs, Lisa crushing the flowers to pieces slightly larger than powder and the girl placing them inside the bag, squishing them in so everything could fit then sewing it up tightly, winding needle and plain brown thread quickly through the lip of the bag as Lisa wiped the mortar, pestle, and work bench with a damp cloth from an apron tied around her waist and gathered the stems to toss outside for animals to pick at as Valeria completed a knot in the string to seal the bag.

The girl had been working as her mother's assistant since she was four and could pick the flower petals and place them in the bag, and was slowly being allowed to work more and more tasks, though largely her job was learning. Lisa would quiz her on the flowers names and properties as they worked, and Valeria often helped her mother in the garden in the summertime.

As the two finished cleaning Lisa stood, taking her daughter's hand, and they left to begin making dinner.

~~~*~~~

Vlad came up behind Lisa as the woman was preparing dinner, grasping her gently from behind and laying his chin on her shoulder, chuckling deeply as she gasped and turned, laughing warmly when she realised it was just him attempting to startle her. "Vlad, you shouldn't do that," she chastised her husband gently.

"And why not, my dear?" he asked, his smooth rich voice like velvety chocolate, sending pleasant vibrations down Lisa's back.

She smiled lightly, turning to fully face him, "because it startles me and I'm working on the stove," she said, though her eyes shone with playfulness, "and because I might want to get you back later on."

Thin lips spread into a catlike smile, "I would welcome any attempts you might have up your sleeve."

"I doubt it's my sleeve that you're interested in, Vlad. At least, I'd hope not," she said frankly, jumping and turning as the smell of doused wood reached their noses and the stew she'd been working on began to boil over.

"Vlad-" she sighed, fixing him with a halfhearted frown, "honestly, this is why I asked you not to distract me," she said, trying to keep a serious expression on her face, but the expression that clearly said he'd just been cheated out of something was so pitiful that she barely stifled a giggle. "Just go get ready for dinner, Vlad. And get that son of yours out of his room," she insisted.

"As you wish, my lady," he said with a broad smile and deep ironic bow, disappearing around the corner, his heavy footfalls audible as the wooden stairs creaked underfoot in response to his ascent up the steps.

~~~*~~~

A dark figure stood in a chamber dimly lit by several lights overhead. His face was the colour of bleached bones, the unnatural pale of the long dead, and his eyes burned red hot like coals in their socket. His suit, of a build old for the time, but made of rich fabric that seemed to crinkle with time itself, was so dark that it seemed cut from a starless night sky. High cheekbones and a strong, aquiline nose hinted at noble birth, as did his upright posture, and cultured voice, low and powerful when he spoke. "Is Alucard prepared?" Dracula asked the dark priest standing before him.

The man nodded, but did not speak. He knew as well as any in Dracula's regiment that a word out of place, even a tone out of place, could and likely would lead to painful death.

"Good, let's begin then," he said, mouth turning up into a small, cruel smile, "I refuse to lose my son to those," he paused, seeming to savour his next thought before spitting it out forcefully, "barbarous villagers," he continued, composed once again, "who dared attempt to take vengeance out on me."


	3. There Are No Such Things As Vampires!

I do not own Castlevania or any characters therein. Valeria is my own creation. Yadda yadda yadda. Based off of Abnormality by Slinky-and-the-Bloody-Wands.

I know I said my other chapter was a little longer than usual... well, I lied. I got a comment on its shortness and decided to expand the size of my chapters. Enjoy the 4500 word giant that is this chapter ^_^

That being said, I hope you survived my rambling, and that you'll read, enjoy, and review!

**Chapter 3**

**There Are No Such Things As Vampires!  
**

A blonde woman entered the small bedroom, her hair shining golden in the bleak winter sunlight streaming through the window, seeming to warm up the room with bright hues where it hung in lively tendrils over her shoulders and back. Her sun touched cheeks were brightened with colour and dainty, well formed pink lips offered a coy smile as Maria gazed upon the sleeping Adrian, pulling two fingers gently over an errant lock of white gold hair as her left hand came to rest upon her belly, just starting to bulge noticeably with pregnancy.

Adrian was the metaphorical winter to Maria's summer. Maria, suffused with the colour of pregnancy and sun kissed skin, bright emerald eyes and gown shining in the lighting of the room, swung her legs up over the side of the bed, laying down beside Adrian. In contrast to her, Adrian's fine platinum blonde hair, naturally pale pallor made more pallid with sickness and white linen shirt and bedsheets seemed to strip him of any colour he may have held. Adrian was a figure as white as the snow that lay just outside of the window.

Maria lay a small, delicate hand on Adrian's chest, burying her forehead against his arm for a moment, breathing in the scent of fresh linen, tea, and a spicy scent that was distinctly her husband, a scent that she'd always loved and could never place, before shimmying back slightly and removing her hand from his chest.

Gently she ran a cool hand across his cheek, calling his name gently with her lips close to his ear, little more than a whisper. Slowly stormy blue grey eyes opened and blinked, trying to focus, still groggy with sleep.

"Maria," he stated in a deep, cool voice. It was not a question, but sounded more as if some identification, as if he were looking at a particularly interesting specimen as his eyes remained upon her.

"Yes, Adrian, it's me," she assured him, her smile tentative, scared that he might relapse into some raging fever and not remember her at all again. "It's Maria," she said, taking his hand and bringing it up to his chest, squeezing it tightly.

"What-" he began, then seemed to catch himself, wincing slightly and deciding to rephrase himself. "Why are you here?" he asked matter of factly, though not unkindly, resisting the urge to pull his hand back. He was caught somewhere between the mental states of the halfbred vampire in Castle Dracula and the recovering man that was a son, a brother, a husband… soon to be a father.

Maria's face fell and her hand began to fall from his until on an impulse he gripped it, surprising himself by bringing it firmly but gently back to its resting place on his chest. "I," he paused, thinking on what he should say before ploughing on. "I am sorry, Maria. I am not myself, I…" he let this phrase fall away, pressing his lips together, still finding the absence of fangs poking into the skin both unsettling and comforting.

Her expression softened slightly and a very small smile curved her mouth. "I understand, Adrian," she breathed, once again tightening her grip on his hand. "I am just frightened. I can't lose you, not again," she admitted this last so softly that he had to strain to catch it.

He closed his eyes briefly and inhaled. "I am sorry that I frightened you," he said, but even to his own ears this sounded too simple, too inadequate for what he must have put her through.

But she only nodded, trying not to judge him too harshly. As far as most of the men she knew went he was sensitive, but he was still a man that had lived a rough, though fulfilling, life and had been taught the traditional roles of men. Protection was first and foremost for Adrian, and honesty drilled into him by Lisa, though that very honesty was what often hurt so much for Maria.

"How about we just rest, Adrian," she suggested gently, her tone making it clear that it was not a question. Throughout his sickness they slept in separate quarters because of his violent outbursts. Now Maria believed that as the worst had passed she not only had a right to share her husband's bed once again but the responsibility. Adrian, she firmly believed, needed somebody to hold on to and who better than his wife?

He released a breath that he hadn't known he'd been holding during her contemplative silence and nodded. He did not know when he had become attached to Maria in this way. Indeed, as a dhampire he could not afford that sentimentality. To get close to a mortal in that state would only lead to greater pain for both of them and he still found himself thinking in terms of the dhampire, despite all assurances to the contrary of there even being such a creature outside the realm of myth and legend. The cold detachment, he could fully admit, was a protective measure that he had taken after the violent death of his mother and his father's consequent insanity. As such a creature humans would not accept him, a pain he had long ago learned to suppress, though not numb completely, and he refused the life of a vampire with his father where, though he may not be fully accepted by the court and especially by those such as Elizabeth Bathory, the voices of protestors would be silent.

He broke off his thought process as Maria moved against him, trying to catch his expression and he realised that he had not answered her. "Yes," he agreed, his voice quiet and deep, as unfathomable to Maria as the thoughts that had run through his head, "let us rest."

~~~*~~~

The next morning dawned crisp and clear. Slowly, as the sun began to light up the small house, sounds of awakening began. The calm steps of Lisa came first, creaking the stairs slightly as she descended them to begin breakfast. As the smell of bacon, eggs, toast and sausages wafted up the stairs Vlad's footfalls began, distinctly heavy and casually paced. Adrian's eyes opened at his father's familiar footsteps, the same in this form as when he was a vampire only heavier, lacking the unnatural liquid grace that the vampire had possessed. Next he felt Maria's breathing speed slightly as she woke up, still cuddled next to him. Her head lifted beside him, her hand stirring against his chest where their hands were clasped together. Green eyes met his and a small smile curved her mouth.

"Good morning, my sweet prince," she said softly, frowning slightly at his reaction.

Adrian's mouth thinned as she called him prince and he closed his eyes briefly, unwanted memories once again filling his mind, drowning the others out like water drowning out air in a glass. He battled for a moment, once again gaining control of his proper memories, human memories. His eyes once again opened and met hers and he allowed, with some effort, a smile to curve his own lips. "Good morning, Maria," he acknowledged, slowly turning to face her on his side, propped up by an elbow and ignoring the morning chill that touched him with an icy finger, permeating throughout him quickly as the blankets shifted and fell from his chest, falling to rest around his waist. His white cotton shirt was little protection against the cold, and he was unused to feeling cold as was.

Maria giggled, a high, bell like sound, and lifted herself up to a sitting position. She kissed her husband, a brief peck preceding a longer kiss before she slipped out of the covers, pulling on a housecoat and exiting the room to assist Lisa in preparing breakfast.

Adrian heard a sound from the room beside his own. Two knocks, made by Maria, and the quick patter of Valeria's exuberant footsteps assisted Maria's down the stairs and told Adrian that he was now the sole occupant of the top level of the house.

Adrian rose out of bed himself a few minutes later, wearily standing as another knock sounded at his door and his mother opened it to bring him down to breakfast.

~~~*~~~

It was after the meal when the family returned to their respective rooms, Lisa taking Valeria up to her room and Maria gathering a perplexed looking Adrian up to their room to dress into heavier clothes in preparation for a trip into town.

Vlad was the first one down the stairs, having dressed quickly, and as Adrian and Maria at last descended the stairs he had just finished hitching the horses up to a wagon and was arriving inside, cheeks red and the rest of his face contrasted white from the winter chill.

He smiled broadly, in high spirits as Lisa dusted a few snowflakes from his shoulders. "Right, is everyone ready to go?" he asked, clapping Adrian on the shoulder and swinging an arm around his shoulders. Vlad led he and Maria outside as Lisa swung Valeria around once, inciting giggling in the child before she grasped the girl, carrying her koala style to the waiting wagon.

The wagon itself was little more than a broad set of planks to carry hay and other difficult items from place to place, sanded down roughly and rigged with a hood made of thick leather that extended halfway across the top, reaching to the back end of the wagon to guard against the wind.

The family settled into the wagon, Adrian and Maria sitting together, the former looking relieved to have escaped the disconcertingly friendly clutches of his father. The couple did not match. Adrian almost blended into the calf deep and still falling snow if not for his brown breeches and knee high boots and thick, black woollen coat extending to mid thigh. Maria, in contrast, was like a ray of sunshine against the stark winter backdrop. Her golden curls and tanned skin seemed, to Adrian, to brighten the landscape and her vibrant red wool coat and thick golden dress visible underneath appearing as a fair imitation of cloth-fire.

Lisa and Valeria were dressed similarly, both in thick woollen coats of icy blue with the pale hair and skin that seemed to be a family trait. The difference came in Lisa's skirts, which were a deep charcoal grey and her coat length, which rested at just past her hips. Valeria, on the other hand, had on a little girls' cotton dress consisting of several shades deeper blue over her coat, the several layers underneath dependable to keep her warm in tandem with the longer coat, reaching almost to her knees.

Vlad looked stately. His well kept black hair was streaked here and there and tinged at the base with silver. He had on black trousers and a thick, dark grey coat. Dark eyes scanned the horizon before he fluidly stepped upon the wagon, swinging himself up and on to a raised platform that served as the seating place for the driver of the carriage.

The pace was leisurely as they started off. Conversation was kept to a minimum as the group adjusted to the chill weather and the sounds were kept to the rhythmic crunching of snow under the hooves of the two dappled grey mares pulling the carriage, the in and out, slightly huffing breathing of the passengers, and the occasional whistling of wind through the cover of the carriage.

The land that they were walking through was, largely, agricultural. Apart from the desolate view of the snow there were farmhouses dotting the land occasionally, and small figures of horses and livestock. The area was hilly and dense, but the narrow road winding through the upcoming forest was one that Vlad knew well and as they entered the large conglomeration of trees he expertly avoided branches and brambles along the path, keeping the mares calm.

Adrian glanced out of the front of the carriage to where his father sat. The land they were travelling through was very similar to the land he had known his entire, long life time. Until one reached the town it was difficult to discern any differences. The road, made simply of compacted dirt, had been in place since his infancy, and though the original farmsteads of his childhood may not be standing more just like them were erected as the old ones fell.

Through Adrian's musings a revelation became clear to him- the landscape of hills and gulleys, fields and forests, was as familiar as the wintry climate and the soft gurgle of the mostly frozen river just audible through the silent trees. But for all of that he had no clear idea of quite where he was.

He had always been able to navigate, staying close to his father's castle. But now he neither resided in the castle, as in his youth, nor remained in his slumber, where he would be able to sense the rising of the building and his father. The realisation struck him that he did not even know which town he was riding toward. Could it be Cordova Town, near where the castle had always stood? Could it even be Warakiya, where the Belmonts resided? Were the Belmonts even a presence in this world? Thoughts swirled through his head like the dizzying snowflakes dancing from the sky to the ground. Fleeting, powerful images that caused him to sit up in preparation to ask these where they were headed, but each time he deflated before bringing the questions forth. He did not want to upset them. What if Dracula didn't, hadn't ever, existed here? They'd think him mad again.

An abrupt noise broke through his thought process and he glanced up and toward the road once again. Instead of sparkling, pristine snow cover, he discovered, there was evidence of a town in the distance. The reason for the abrupt stop was clear as he saw a small boy clutching an object that had obviously been dropped running back the length of road to the town.

The town in the distance was about twice the size of Cordova Town, Adrian judged. But, he reasoned, that may also be due to whatever different events had taken place in this world. It certainly did not have the oppressive air of the township during 'his time'.

There were large groups of children playing, the first sounds the group heard was their raucous laughter and shouting to each other. As they rode further into the town other sounds became audible. Bells belonging to small shops ringing merrily as the wooden doors hit them, and the closing of the doors moments later, the muted crunching of snow as dozens of people trampled it into the ground, the clopping of horses' hooves on the exposed cobblestone and packed dirt roads and, as they reached the heart of the town, the lively noises of the outside marketplace.

The smells began to filter to Adrian midway from the entrance of the town to the marketplace. The earthy smell of horse manure was the first to come to his nose, followed shortly by the distinctive scent of baking coming from many of the small stone or wooden shops. More food smells, meat in particular, became strong as they entered the marketplace proper.

They stopped several feet into the main marketplace and Vlad climbed off of his platform, hobbling the horses to prevent them running while the family was shopping and went to the side to open the back of the carriage and assist his family out. His face was almost completely red now from the wind and crisp, snowy ride but he smiled widely as Lisa took his hand and he gently helped her down from the carriage, afterward picking Valeria up and setting her on the ground.

There was a brief pause and Adrian realised that he was to be exiting next. He climbed down off of the platform, ignoring Vlad, who was watching him with a creased brow as if to be assured that the man would truly be fine. Adrian's feet met the road and he immediately turned back to the carriage, assisting Maria in exiting in a gentlemanly fashion, one arm around the pregnant woman's waist as far as he could and his other hand clutching hers as he half carried her down.

The gentlemanly fashion was not an affectation of her pregnancy, or his closeness with her. Indeed, he was still perplexed by his relationship with this woman. His gentlemanly manner was, instead, a product of his upbringing. An upbringing very different from the way this one seemed. This was, he realised, the way he might treat any woman in a position where he was not called to fight, either in a courtly situation or otherwise. The thought made him feel uncomfortable and he pressed his lips together tightly as the woman in question took his hand, beginning to lead him along with the family.

It was much warmer inside of the marketplace than it had been on the road. The groupings of food vendors, clothing vendors, and merchants, along with the fire pits set up along the way seemed to lend a warming energy about the place that lifted the spirits of the group as they set out along the cobblestone street.

The family was clearly popular. Within a half hour of perusing the market they had been approached about a dozen times. Lisa had taken orders for tinctures or other herbal remedies, and had been approached a few times besides for simple greetings with friends. Vlad had agreed to help a couple of the village men with various problems, apparently known as a man good with his hands, good at fixing things, a fact which Adrian thought ironic but did not comment on. Maria knew most of the people in town and brief greetings were exchanged, and many comments on how well her pregnancy was coming along were collected. Valeria had been whisked off early in the excursion to play with a large group of village children that she apparently knew quite well and they were some way up the street, tossing a toy back and forth between each other. Adrian, for his part, was met with conspicuously side long glances and hushed and sympathetic voices as if the people meeting him were greeting him on his deathbed rather than out in the marketplace.

Adrian was tolerant of this in light of his ability to freely walk about the village at all. The creature he had been would have been, at best, run out of the village and at worst, a typical reaction, attacked by the braver souls while the young, old, and women rushed back to safety. In spite of his tolerance he found that he grew weary with the situation and felt himself grow irritable. Being insulted he could handle, but the whispers with loved ones after he'd left were frustrating and he was embarrassed not only for himself, but for his family. For his mother and Maria, mostly, who passed their reddening cheeks off on the cold and, as tactfully as they could, told the well wishers who so blatantly asked how Adrian was faring that they had to continue on with the shopping.

Adrian knew only bits and pieces of what he was like when he 'went mad with sickness'. To his knowledge, it had been for no longer than two weeks, the worst of it lasting merely just over one week. But for the duration of his sickness he had said things… horrible things. He could not muster a sincere apology toward his father, no matter that the man was supposedly now human, respected and a good man. He had called him a monster, and rightly so, in Adrian's mind. He loved his father, but it would take more than a couple of weeks as a good father to Adrian to erase all the hurt he'd caused during his reign. Even if he was human now, Adrian found that he couldn't trust the man, even if he wanted to. His mother, and to a lesser extent, as bad as that sounded, Maria, however, he felt guilt over. He had apparently told Lisa that she was dead, had been dead. And to him she had, he supposed, but it did nothing to assuage Lisa's fears. And Maria, he had declared that she was not anything to him, or rather that they were nothing to each other and that she should leave. He had, of course, meant that she should leave the castle. Lisa was used to sickness, and though he could tell, from overheard snippets of conversation, that his comments had wounded her she was easily enough able to place them behind her. Maria, on the other hand, took it much harder. She was tentative, and through snippets of memory that were oddly his and yet not at the same time he realised that this gentle handling was not at all normal for the girl.

It was not long before a familiar figure graced the small group, bringing with him a beautiful woman and Valeria. Richter Belmont was not an old man by any stretch of the imagination. He was at the pinnacle of physical fitness in his early twenties, tall and strongly built. But this Richter Belmont seemed so much younger than the one that Adrian knew before. The Richter of his world had slight grey hairs already just visible from his repeated assaults by Dracula, the abduction of his young wife and niece, the condemning legacy that had been passed to him. However much he might embrace that destiny, the destiny of a Belmont, it wore heavily on all of the clan.

This Richter Belmont, however, was with his radiant wife, Annette, who was dressed in soft lavender that accentuated green eyes much like her sister's. Richter Belmont's eyes, deep blue and vibrant as ever, were sparkling with enthusiasm as he greeted the family. He still wore the blue surcoat and white trousers, the only thing lacking from the Belmont that Adrian knew being the coiled whip missing from his side and the suffocating presence of Castle Dracula.

Adrian swallowed hard to keep the tense displeasure from his face as, in what seemed to Adrian a surreal act, Richter Belmont and Vlad Tepes shook hands heartily like old friends. He had no time to dwell on this, however, as the man turned to him, clapping him on the back in a friendly manner and greeting him just as exuberantly.

As the evening wore on, however, and the well wishers and busybodies seemed to get used to the idea that Adrian was back and around town the family was allowed to relax a little more, leaving Adrian to slowly digest all that had been thrown at him that day. Groceries were piled onto the carriage, ingredients for the coming week, baubles were bought and, feeling somewhat generous, new dresses were ordered made for all three girls.

By the time evening had fully fallen the family had returned to the cottage. The carefree day in town was something that Adrian had not experienced since his early childhood with his mother and it did wonders toward loosening his tense disposition once he became accustomed to the talk and rush and he returned 'home' in a mentally exhausted and over stimulated, but satisfied and happy, state.

Adrian started a fire as the family settled down in chairs, receiving hot chocolates from Lisa a few moments later, talking as the woman put the groceries into storage before joining them, curling up under a blanket and resting against her husband contentedly.

"It was a wonderful day today, love. We don't go into town nearly enough as a family," Lisa said, placing her hand against Vlad's chest.

"I am glad that you enjoyed it," he said, his voice deep, rich, and content as he held his wife close.

"I wish we could have stayed for longer though," piped in Valeria immediately. "Why do we always have to leave before it gets dark?" she asked disparagingly, "we know the way home well enough, papa."

"The vampires… other creatures…" Adrian informed her automatically, transfixed by the dancing flames in the grate. He paused afterward as his thoughts caught up to his automatic response in time to realise the rest of the family watching him.

"Well," coughed Vlad, "or so the folktales go."

"There're really vampires?" the child asked, dark eyes growing wide as saucers.

"And 'other creatures'," stated Vlad with a slight smile, trying to inject some humour into the situation.

Lisa smacked him lightly with the hand against his chest before returning it to its resting place. "Don't frighten the child so, Vlad," Lisa chastised. "There are no vampires, love, no creatures. Those are very old tales, you have to understand. People were afraid, so they made things up-" she began.

The child wrinkled her nose, "why on earth would they make something like that up, mumma?" she asked reprovingly, as if it was Lisa making the creatures up. "It would just make me more scared," she said matter of factly, "thinking there were things like that…"

Lisa sighed, "you're safe, love, you're safe. The reason we come home before dark is that yes, we do know the road, but think if a wheel broke or one of the horses feet were stuck in a gopher hole. It would be much more dangerous without being able to see, sweetling," she soothed.

The child's disgruntled expression did not disappear but she seemed to accept the explanation, at least.

"Now why don't you go upstairs and get ready for me, love," Lisa suggested.

The girl turned to her mother and her brow creased, "but… can't you come with me? Please?" the child asked.

"You'll only be upstairs a moment," Lisa laughed lightly, "you'll be fine. Just remember: there are no such things as vampires."

~~~*~~~

The ceremony took place in a room lush with finery and dark with malice. Adrian Tepes lay on a stone slab twice his width and just meeting his length, a platform which was raised to meet the waist of Vlad Tepes. The dhampire's wrists and ankles were bound to the stone and a blanket placed at his feet, preparations that spoke volumes about the knowledge Vlad Tepes held about the procedure that would soon follow.

The shackles were for his own protection, it was true. Adrian Tepes had a history of less than kind manner toward his father, but primarily the vampire did not know if the man would have a violent physical reaction about being brought back to this realm. Switching consciousness was not unheard of but from what he understood from information handed to him by his priests this was something completely different. If it was true, that the man's consciousness was actually in another dimension, then he did not know what reaction to expect upon his waking. Adrian could well injure himself without knowledge.

The chanting began, first low and then raising in pitch. The voices were spoken in a strange, dead language and the voices buzzed with repulsive magic that caused even the monstrous guards outside of the room, rotting corpses that had once been human, to feel dizzy and nauseous. The pitch changed once again, an odd mixture of high and low voices that swirled with fervour and echoed off of the high stone walls. Words became lost in crevices only to be once again thrown back into the room, creating an odd circular rhythm to the chanting and causing Vlad himself to feel as if he were being lost, letting the powerful sound take him where it willed.

The sound died down again and Vlad looked down upon his son. Warmth had begun to spread across the brow of the dhampire, a slight warmth that nevertheless warmed Vlad's chilled skin as Adrian's blood began pumping more fervently, as if coming out of deep sleep. Vlad's tongue snaked out, wetting his lips as he bent over the man, now deaf to the remains of the chanting. Crimson eyes narrowed in scrutiny as he closely watched Adrian until his eyes slowly fluttered open, pale white lids giving way to intensely golden orbs.


	4. The Arrival

So... I got a good deal less reviews last time than is usual. I know some people are internetless over the summer, but if it's that the chapter was too long TELL ME! XD Because I'm not a mind reader but can make them smaller if I know to. I just wanted to make sure that the size wasn't driving people off, hahaha. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far, rest assured that the real action starts here!

**Chapter 4**

**Of Waking**

Adrian was halfway to the kitchen table when the bout of dizziness hit him. He stumbled, feeling the room spin and turn black about the edges. Nausea hit him hard, first as warmth that escalated to boiling in his stomach and then spreading into a swirling heat that sped upward through his throat. He vaguely saw himself stumble into the kitchen and grab onto the long table holding the china near the entrance to support himself, the knowledge that he would not be able to reach the table dimly flowering in his foggy mind.

He heard Valeria scream and run from the room to fetch Lisa and heard the scraping of a chair as Maria stood, rushing to support him, and Vlad's heavy footfalls rushing to him, but felt neither of their hands. The only evidence he was given that they had him was his world tipping and falling again as he was placed in his chair and the only sound he could hear clearly was the blood rushing through his ears at incredible speed, which sounded more as if he'd been plunged into a pool with a weight tied to his feet.

Images began to flash before his eyes as the human world faded. Images of Castlevania, the forest overlooking it, the feel of the fine cotton shirt underneath the heavy clothes marking his noble lineage, the metallic tang of blood. As the images began to rush into his head with more clarity and the sense of the place started to gain more reality he panicked. Blue-grey eyes opened wide as he struggled against the return of that place, grasping onto Lisa as she arrived, desperately pleading with words he didn't even know left his lips that she would not disappear and leave him again.

He felt an unpleasant pulling begin at the edges of his mind, like someone was attempting to wrench him from his body and he struggled harder, his mind trying to get a steady hold on this reality like a man dangling from a cliff searching for his life saving handhold. But he felt himself slipping already, no matter how hard he tried to grip.

Slowly, he felt himself lose his mental grip, bit by bit as the pull against him became stronger and in one last, desperate attempt he gave up the struggle to stand his ground in this reality and clung to what mattered most in it. His mother was at the front of his mind, Maria and his child that she was carrying, Valeria, and lastly, his father and the dream that maybe, as a human, they could be something like a loving family.

~~~*~~~

The first thing that Adrian felt beneath him was hard stone against his back and pressure on his chest. The first thing that he heard was the minute shuffling of stiff robes. And the first thing he smelled was dampness, fertile soil…

He lay without moving for a moment and then, ever so slowly, he chose to open his eyes. His gaze met familiar crimson eyes, the very ones that he was dreading to see.

He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound would come out. His throat felt stretched, painful. He swallowed hard and opened his mouth for another attempt, licking his lips and in a scratchy, painful voice affirmed, "Father…"

Vlad nodded his head once. For a moment he felt dazed, like he was seeing through someone else's eyes and then the feeling vanished, replaced by a niggling sensation that something was not quite right.

He looked down on Adrian, frowning as he saw a slight fever sheen against Adrian's skin, a reaction that only happened when the man had been out in the sunlight too long and had gotten a case of heat stroke. That, Vlad knew, was certainly not the case now. It must have been from the spell.

"Adrian," Vlad said, trying to gauge if he had the man's full attention. "You were struck by poison. Do you remember what manner of creature you were struck by?" he asked.

It did not matter, not really, but Vlad was trying to discern how much memory the man had of the attack. The poison was apparently gone from his system and Vlad had already followed the instructions to get his son back to him. He'd completed the ritual, and he knew the motive behind the attack, as well as who had sent the beast, which had been slain. Poisons, however, were notoriously tricky. Even if one managed to dispel the poison from their system it could have lasting effects.

Adrian made a half hearted attempt to focus fully on his father, failing miserably. His vision was blurred, and the vampire's speech seemed slurred. The only thing Adrian could focus on was the crimson eyes of the vampire, the fangs that came in and out of his vision as he spoke…

Adrian could not believe that his entire ordeal had been a dream. He had been skeptical, at first, but he had been careful. There had been no lapses into the poison, back into Castlevania, after the first little bit; the new world had touched on every sense. Doubt began to blossom in his mind, overtaking the garden the perfect familial image had made in his mind with the ugly weeds of his misery. It had to have been a dream if he was back here. All an effect of the poison.

He felt a cool hand slide over his forehead and knew that Vlad was checking to make sure that his lack of response did not come from some inability to hear, or some… memory lapse. "The monster," Adrian said in a questioning tone, unsure if he had heard the question correctly. "Yes, the monster. I remember," he said forcefully, turning his head sharply to one side, away from Dracula.

Vlad's lips thinned and he frowned, suddenly aware of the shuffling of the priests every so often and their eyes on him. "Leave this hall!" he growled loudly, turning to face them. They left silently, heads bowed, the only sound the shuffling of their robes.

Adrian sat up slowly, warily, looking at Vlad as if unsure whether or not he might vanish at any moment. Adrian swung his legs over the side of the slab, sending his mind reeling and twisting in a bout of dizziness.

He leaned forward, feeling Vlad's hands instantly supporting him by the shoulders. Adrian attempted to recoil, to get away, but he didn't have the energy. His skin felt like hot and cold pinpricks were all over it and desperately he attempted to regain sight, only seeing snippets of the room around him, flashes of stone, of Vlad's black brocade shirt…

~~~*~~~

Adrian came to again lying on a rather large expanse of bed and feeling only half aware of what had happened. The room was obscured in darkness save for lightly flickering candle light bouncing off of the rough stone walls and a thought flashed back to him, waking to see serene sunlight filtering in, lighting the rough wooden walls and floorboards of the cottage with golden light…

He slowly pushed himself up off of the mattress, the best quality that money could buy in that day and age, and patiently waited for his eyes to adjust to the flickering candle light, which seemed to be absorbed by the dark corners of the room. It was a large room with the walls consisting of grey bricks of stone. A large burgundy rug lay at the side of the bed, fitting nicely with the royal purple covers, the soft white linen of undercover protecting him from the scratchy wool of the purple blankets. There was little furniture, but what was there was elegant. A mahogany armoire fit the corner of his room across from his bed and an elegant writing desk, dark mahogany with gold leaf set into the corners with a few pieces of parchment and a handsome black feather quill sitting near a closed bottle of ink in a silver inkpot with swirls set into it sat midway across that wall.

He lifted one bone pale hand to his face, his mind flickering to remember the skin that was pale, but still pink with blood rushing through the veins at a more human pace. His skin now appeared as bleached as his white linen shirt, the only colour the light blue tracery of his veins, though even that was dulled by the slower flow of blood through his body despite the almost translucently pale pallor of skin. He chewed at his bottom lip in thought, his mouth thinning as the familiar feel of his fangs against the flesh became evident. The hand, still held up, clutched into a fist and was lowered to the bed as he turned away from his inspection of it.

The heavy wooden door opened slowly, bringing with it a rush of cool humidity and Vlad Tepes. The vampire approached his son swiftly, taking the chair from the writing desk fluidly and placing it beside the dhampire's bed.

"You're feeling better, I see," the man stated, "Is there any sign left of sickness?"

The dhampire was silent for a moment, seeming to gauge whether or not he should respond to the vampire's words. Finally his breath left him in a sharp exhale and he nodded. "Only a little," he said firmly. "Why… why did you bring me back?" he asked at length.

Vlad looked over at him, his eyes widened. "You would have died otherwise!" he insisted. "You were in a coma, Adrian."

Adrian shook his head, "I was… elsewhere, father. I wasn't…" He licked his lips, attempting to find the words to explain himself. A voice in his mind angrily said, 'you shouldn't have to explain yourself!' Adrian pressed his lips together, once again feeling the fangs press into his bottom lip.

"You would have died, Adrian," Vlad stated once again, his tone more firm this time. "I saved you from that."

"Saved me?" Adrian asked, a halting, bitter laugh half escaping his throat, choked off as soon as it arrived. He had been so sure that the dream was real. 'I'm a fool,' Adrian thought, breathing deeply and trying not to think about his mother, the notion of a proper family, spending a day in the sunlight, in a marketplace like a normal man, trying not to betray the way those thoughts made his eyes sting. "You did not save me, father," he said, his voice betraying him as it broke slightly. Even if it had been a dream, he would rather have died there than to live here.

Adrian attempted to sit up farther, swinging his legs, dressed in soft grey slacks, over the side of the bed only to be met with another wave of dizziness. He involuntarily fell forward, trying to snatch at anything to keep his balance. He felt Vlad's arms, strong but surprisingly gentle for the man, around him.

Adrian clenched his eyes shut for a moment, willing the wave of dizziness to pass before pushing against Vlad, trying to loosen his grip. "Let me go, father. I am fine," the dhampire muttered, outstretched hands pushing Vlad away and head averted to the side so that his flaxen pale hair fell forward and obscured his face.

Vlad seemed to hesitate a moment but gave Adrian what he wished for, retracting his hands slowly to make sure that the dhampire would not once again falter.

"If you wish to get out of this bed, Adrian," Vlad said slowly, as if testing his words before speaking them aloud. "I can help you with that. If only just to go for a walk," he offered.

Adrian looked up, watching the vampire suspiciously through narrowed golden eyes. "There is something…" he shook his head, "You are acting strangely, father. What has happened?" he demanded.

Vlad watched the man intently, crimson eyes calculating until he stood, brocade rustling. "I am not the one who has changed, Adrian," he insisted, bringing his chair back to its resting place by the writing desk and stalking to the door.

He hesitated as Adrian's voice rang out to him, his statement sounding like that of an impulsive child. The dhampire spoke quickly, as if merely responding to thoughts that popped up inside of his head before mulling them over.

"If… If somehow mother _had_ returned, would you… be better… father?" Adrian asked, his voice fading until it was almost a whisper at the end of his question.

The question caught Vlad off guard. He faltered slightly, watching his son through narrowed eyes. The man's expression was innocent, a mixture of curiosity that could not be contained and the sickness that Vlad assumed had loosened his son's tongue.

The man felt a compulsion to hope, for a moment, before shaking his head. "She is gone, Adrian," he said in a low voice, almost a growl, "If she could be brought back I would have done it now."

With that the vampire left, the heavy door shutting with a dust muffled thumping sound, leaving Adrian once again the sole occupant of the room.

~~~*~~~

The library at Dracula's Castle was a wonderful place. One could easily get lost in the shelves upon shelves of history, science, mythology, and fiction. The knowledge contained in this library was both arcane and new, proven and unproven, dangerous and benign.

The danger in the library at Dracula's Castle was not a metaphor. Besides the plethora of monsters that usually littered the castle there were some creatures that inhabited the books themselves, jumping out from between the pages and attacking unwary would-be scholars. Furthermore were the monsters that were the books themselves, books that would follow those who traversed the library, snapping at them, pages forming into paper thin but razor sharp fangs.

The library in this castle was also huge, with only one ancient librarian serving the place. It was an elegant hall spanning three levels. The entrance seemed simplistic enough, a set of stone steps leading up to two huge wooden doors revealed the entrance hallway. The entrance hallway was a long hall set with elegant and simple mahogany bookshelves showcased various items from old pieces of jewelry that belonged to significant historical figures to occult items such as urns of rarely used powders and even shrunken heads set behind thick, clouded panes of glass.

The first hall opened up to an expansive great hall with three staircases. The large Persian rug that lay in the middle of the circular room was a deep red and the chandelier above hung with thousands of fragile crystals and was strewn with a multitude of lights very unlike fire. Little white lights that seemed to flicker with the drafts sent in by the three staircases but never quite went out, dimming only to shine at full light again a moment later.

The staircase to the left of the entry into the great hall led downward to many archival records and study areas; the middle one heading straight across to the main librarian's office, past row upon row of bookshelves on various topics; the upper levels, which were reached by the staircase to the right, consisted of personal records and collections. All three staircases led to an expansive hall that was open on both sides, allowing anyone walking across the stone pathways to see down to the ceiling of the catacombs and up to the floor of the personal chambers of the inhabitants of the castle. Looking to the sides one could see the marble and portrait galleries clearly. The stone walkways to each separate portion of the library were made of strong stone and railings raised two feet on each side, carved into designs that could only be caught clearly and fully when one was in the marble or portrait galleries, looking over at the library bridges.

It was on this middle bridge where a small, blonde girl clung to the railing about halfway across. The child in question was wearing a little yellow dress of fine wool with a thicker woollen overcoat on top of it. The dress had rips in places and the clothes were damp from the fog rolling just outside. The girl's fine, flaxen hair had fallen out of its braid and lay in tangles down her back and her porcelain pale face was stained with tear tracks.

But underneath all of this grime it was easy to tell that the girl would be really quite beautiful. Her face was round and perfectly balanced, large eyes wide with childlike innocence, small nose sprinkled with freckles and her mouth delicately formed. She was pale, as if moonlight itself had carved her, and though she was hurried and obviously frightened she walked with an easy grace.

The child crawled across the bridge cautiously, as if fearing that every step might be her last. Her eyes were focused straight ahead, though every few minutes she would look down, leading to another bout of clinging to the bridge, her eyes clamped tightly shut.

The girl eventually reached the other side, cautiously peering up at the bridges below and above her, careful not to venture too close to the edge of her own bridge. She shuddered, looking back across the path she'd taken to get there.

The girl had arrived quite suddenly at the castle. She had no idea where she was or who had taken her here, but one moment she was at home and the next found her waking on a cold stone floor in a large hall. Mist had roiled outside of the window, where a moon hung huge and full. There had been monsters there, too. Most had not cast her more than a cursory glance, if that, but there had been one that seemed more foolish than the rest. It looked like a man but, she reasoned, it couldn't have been one. This man was more like one from the horror stories she had heard, its putrefaction evident in its lack of skin and its smell, putrid and decaying. The creature had turned and stalked toward her in a shambling, rolling gait and the girl had fled to the huge wooden doors, somehow managing to wedge them open enough to slip inside, not even hearing the ripping noise her dress made as the door caught the corner of the material.

She could still hear the monster on the other side, making a gobbling noise that sounded too much like words attempting to be formed from a decayed throat for her liking. She had sat there, on the other side of the door, for some time, waiting to be let into the comforting room, the one across the hall with the angel and fountain. That room was one where the monsters seemed to avoid. But the monster who had its attentions on her would not leave the door and eventually the child had started to meekly cross farther into the hall where giant bookshelves lined the walls. If she stood on her tiptoes she could just peek in enough to see all manner of objects, most of them jewels, though with a shudder she thought of the skull she believed she'd caught a glimpse of on a shelf higher up.

It had taken her a while to choose which staircase to take, but eventually her young mind had reasoned that the staircase going down was too frightening, too dark, the one going upward was too mysterious, with tendrils of fog reaching down from the high windows, and that the middle staircase seemed the safest bet. So she'd crossed, only realising half way through how very large the bridge was, and how high up she was.

By the time she reached the other side she was exhausted, cold, and hungry. Most of all she was frightened, for herself, for her parents, even for her brother and his wife. She wanted to go home, wake up in a nice warm bed, pretend she was dizzy and sick and be fed bits of warmed bread and dried fruit by her mother. She quickly shook these thoughts out of her head and forced another few steps forward. The fact was, she realised, that she was not at home and no amount of wishing would change that. If she could only find somebody who could at least take her back to the village…

Her mind tried to block out the nasty voice that attempted to make itself heard. The voice that said that she had found beings, monstrous creatures, but that she had not seen another human. That she'd found everything but humans and normal creatures. She'd found a dog, sniffing at corners, but it had glowing red eyes and had disappeared into thin air. She'd also seen heads, just disembodied heads, flying overtop her in the hallway, not seeming bothered enough to acknowledge her existence. Even the one that had almost flown into her had not glanced back. She had reasoned that they must have been tricks, carnival tricks, like the ones she'd seen in the village… But they seemed so very real…

The rotting man had clinched the deal. She'd had enough of this place. She felt a stinging in her eyes and tried to blink back the tears that threatened to spill over, but as she thought of her family and her home they fell over, rolling down her cheeks and replacing her original tears with fresh, glistening tracks.

The girl urged herself to go on, tears rolling silently down her face despite her best efforts to take her mother's advice. Cry it out, breath deeply, then try to stop and think of other things. But there was no mother to hug while she cried it out, and breathing deep only worked until she tried to think of those other things, which is when the cycle started over and she realised how alone she was here.

Still she walked despondently, her steps automatic now, following straight ahead instead of branching off when she reached the end of the short hall and slipped past a small wrought iron gate into a huge room filled with shelves upon shelves of old tomes as far as the eye could see.

The bookshelves towered over her small, thin form and contained symbols that seemed familiar, even though she couldn't make out the words from her most basic education, while other symbols appeared completely unfamiliar. She walked for what seemed like forever, on and on. The chandeliers that lit her way bounced off of the gold lettering of some of the books, making them dazzle and causing her to gaze up in distraction more than once, but in the worry over her new environment the tears, at least, had stopped.

Abruptly the end of the rows and rows of books came into view and the child softly gasped and ducked as she saw an ancient figure sitting at a large librarian's desk at the end of the massive hall. He was not a monster or demon like the other things she'd seen, at least as far as she could tell. He had a long white beard and his hair receded to almost a monk's cut in the back, though it fell past his shoulders and out of sight down his back. A small pair of spectacles were perched upon his long nose and he seemed to be concentrating particularly hard on something, occasionally rubbing his spectacles along the plain brown robe he wore.

The girl watched for a second before a sudden compulsion struck her and she dived into the nearest junction between shelves of books, out of plain sight, before sneaking closer to the man. She had pondered whether or not he was human at all. She hadn't seen his eyes, she reasoned, the dog had seemed normal until she'd seen its red eyes…

A shiver ran down her back as she thought about the hallway of monsters she'd left behind. She had not encountered anything in this library except for some perfectly harmless artefacts and bookshelves that made her nervous by their sheer size. But she could feel eyes on her, like something was watching her.

A sudden noise behind her made her whirl around to face her 'attacker' even as she stifled a startled gasp. But there was nothing there- until she saw a book slowly sliding itself out of the bookshelf, as if pulled by an invisible hand. It was an old book, with a leather bound cover and fancy golden lettering. The child backed away, warily watching it pull itself entirely free and turn so that it seemed to be watching her.

Slowly the book opened its pages, white parting to reveal pin small but razor sharp teeth. One step behind the other the girl slowly backed down the aisle. She had once been told by her mother that a wild animal who was about to attack could be staved off by calm, slow, and deliberate movements… But this was no simple wild animal. The book flew at her and she lost all pretence of calm behaviour.

She flew past the books, many more who were now pulling themselves out of their shelves and screamed loudly, a shrill sound choked off by a sob, as she fell against the hard stone floor, feeling nipping at her arm. However, when she looked up, her body in a curled up position to protect her soft stomach tissues and her arms thrown up to protect her face, she saw the books slowly receding back into their shelves.

At the same time a voice smooth and old with age murmured, "What on earth…?"

The librarian had heard the scream and come to inspect what had happened. He thought it had sounded like a child's voice, but that couldn't be… Vlad did not generally take from children, and there hadn't been a child in the castle since Adrian Tepes was young.

He saw the books inspecting something, ready to nip at the creature who had fallen but upon seeing the librarian they slowly began to back away.

The sight that met his eyes when the books had disappeared had shocked him. He was used to seeing strange things in this castle, even used to his ears deceiving him. Though the last thing he would have expected to see was a little girl in what looked like tattered rags, her hands held up in front of her face as if warding off an attack.

"Who are you, child? What are you doing in this castle?" he asked sharply, though not unkindly.

"Please, don't hurt me," she pleaded breathlessly. "I don't know, I woke up here. I don't know why I'm-" she tried to explain in panicked breaths, her words coming in rapid succession.

He shook his head and held up one hand in a stopping motion, palm toward the child and fingers extended. "Silence, child," he insisted, cutting her off. Slowly she rolled over and braced her hands against the floor, pushing herself back up to a standing position. She was shaky on her feet but her breathing seemed to be calming at least somewhat and, with it, her hysteria.

The librarian hesitated before insisting that she come with him, taking her by one elbow to his back room and setting a blanket about her shoulders, handing her a cup of calming tea. She snatched at the tea gratefully, sipping it fervently and taking deep breaths to try and stop the shaking that wracked her body.

The back room was a small square room with gleaming wood-panelled walls, two soft, high-backed chairs, a small writing and personal study desk and a fireplace currently warmed only by a few embers burning brightly. The room was dimly lit only by the embers but the librarian could discern that the girl was young, not yet a teenager, by her voice, her lack of femininity, and her size. She was curled up in one of the high-backed chairs, clutching tightly at a cup of tea, tangled blonde strands falling into her face.

"Now, let's try this again," suggested the librarian in a soft voice. "Why are you in this castle? How did you come to be here?" He was hoping to get a rational answer from her this time. Dracula's Castle was not the sort of place that one just wandered into. Children were stringently warned about it, even adults feared it, and the girl would surely have been snatched up by some creature already if there was not some good reason for them to avoid her.

But she seemed normal enough. She looked human, from what he could discern, and by her fear she obviously was not a denizen of the castle, and she was not some poor, stupid creature. Scared, yes, but by her manner of speech she was not somehow deficient in brain activity.

She seemed to be ordering her thoughts before speaking this time and was much more deliberate and calm when she did speak. "I was… I don't know to be honest," she said, her voice quiet and speech slow, as if she were tasting every word on her tongue before speaking. "I do not know how I got here," she admitted, "I just… woke up. I was at home, and… all of a sudden I woke up in the hallway in front of the library. What is this place, sir?" she asked, whispering the last few words.

The librarian was completely taken aback by this question, it should have been obvious! Fearing the worst reaction he said, "You're in Castlevania, child. Castle _Dracula_." But there was no outburst, no screaming, no crying. He saw her lips purse slightly and all she uttered was "…oh. I've never heard of Dracula. Are we still in Romania?"

The old man was dumbstruck. His mouth parted slightly, as if in a vain attempt to formulate a response, "Yes, we are, but-"

"Near Cordova Town?" she interrupted, "because that's where I'm from…"

His eyes widened- Castle Dracula _overlooked_ Cordova Town. There was no way that she could have been oblivious to this place! She interrupted his intake of breath that was going to go toward efforts of explaining this to the child when she asked, "And those were _real_ monsters?"

Finally, something they were on the same page regarding. The old man moved to the small writing desk and picked up a candle, reaching into the embers of the fireplace until the wick caught the fire, adding some light into the room so he could at least get a good look at the girl.

"Yes, they were real monsters," he began, stopping and squinting in the light to get a closer look at the girl. There was something about her, something unusual that had caught his eye in the bright ring of light cast by the candle. But it couldn't be, he reasoned, there wasn't a possible way…

Her face was impossibly pale, perfectly formed and without blemish, as if she were a carefully crafted porcelain doll. She had perfectly sculpted lips, high cheekbones that were the trait of aristocratic blood, a small nose just beginning to show an aquiline form as she began to shed some childhood traits with age, though she was still young enough to have a smooth, rounded face and wide, innocent eyes. Her eyes were what had caught the light, shining as bright as the embers in the fireplace they were an intense golden through her long, dark lashes. A golden that reminded the librarian of an amber caught in the light. His eyes traveled down to her paraffin coloured skin, where not even a slight blush or pink lips hinted at blood flowing through the child's veins. Her appearance, tangled hair and tattered clothes, had put him off balance for an instant. But who would this girl be? It was apparent to him now that she was not human.

"What did you say your name was, child?" he breathed, watching the way those intense eyes swirled with a sudden uncertainty bordering on fear.

"I…" she began, chewing tentatively on her bottom lip, "I don't think I said, sir." That brief moment when she chewed on her bottom lip was the moment he confirmed the truth. When he saw small fangs flash from the corner of her mouth. The girl was a dhampire, the halfbred child of a human and a vampire. But the mystery still remained- how did she get into the castle? Who was she?

She did not like the way he was looking at her. She looked back down at the tea swirling in her cup before looking back up at him. "My name is Valeria Tepes."


	5. Tour of the Castle

As always, I would hope that people would check out Slinky's Abnormality. Not only will it offer a backstory for this tale, but it's a fantastic story!

I do not own Castlevania.

I am sorry that this chapter is so OC-focused. I originally had this and the next chapter integrated together but it ended up being 18 pages, so I really did have to split it. I promise that the next chapter will have more diversity and actual characters that people know and love!!! (I know because I don't like ramblings on OC's, either) But hopefully you'll get through it, catch the reference that I'm using for the librarian (and if you're reading this, Patricia, I hope you don't mind me using this idea, or let me know if you do!), and review- there's something at the end you'll really want to catch (though it was a bit hard to slide it in there smoothly!). That being said, sorry for the slow update. Not only did I write the whole thing, edit, split, and then re-edit but I'm also working both full time and part time jobs as well as taking care of at home committments. Hopefully it was well worth the wait!

**Chapter 5**

**The Tour of the Castle**

The librarian did a double take, his spectacled eyes wide. "Tepes?" he whispered, "But there isn't any way-"

"Of course there is," she insisted indignantly, "My father is Vlad Tepes, and my mother is Lisa Tepes. I have an older brother named Adrian Tepes and he is married to Maria Renard. We live in a cottage just outside of Cordova Town," she recited. "Father is a-"

The old man held up a hand and cut her off. "Enough, child, enough," he placated. "Are you looking for them? Is that the problem?"

The child took one deep breath before nodding and when she spoke her voice broke slightly, "I just want to go home, mister."

The librarian nodded, sinking slowly into the chair behind his personal study desk to process all that he'd just learned. At length he looked up before speaking, "You may finish your tea and then I will take you upstairs to a guest room. I must speak to someone as you are being cleaned up and then we'll see about finding your family."

The girl's eyes lit up excitedly, rising to meet his. "Really, you'll help me?" she asked, hope swimming in the bright amber orbs.

"Yes, I will help you," he assured her, "however, I can guarantee you nothing, child."

"I- I understand," she said softly, looking back down at the tea swirling in her cup, "But any help would be…" she trailed off, unsure of what to say.

The old man nodded, "I understand, Valeria," he tried the name on his tongue. "You'd best finish up your tea and we'll go upstairs."

~~~*~~~

The child, excited at the prospect of being reunited with her family, finished the tea as quickly as possible. The old man watched her slide down the large chair to the cold stone floor below, smoothed by centuries of his own pacing while his mind was deep in thought.

"Come, child," he said softly, extending a gnarled old hand to her.

She seemed to hesitate for a moment, but placed a small, soft hand in his. The librarian's hand enveloped Valeria's in a firm but gentle grip as he lead her back into the main area of the library.

They passed the librarian's large main desk before the man stopped short, and, with him, Valeria. "Ah, I haven't left in so long. I'd almost forgotten…" he murmured, and swooped behind his desk, Valeria having no choice but to follow him like a puppy on a short leash as he bent down, rummaging through drawers.

The girl stayed silent for a moment and was just opening her mouth to ask what had been so urgent when he emerged holding three items. The first item was a black leather pouch of light purple powder that sparkled brilliantly where the dim beams of light caught it. The second item was a six inch long oak branch, polished smooth and was about the width of the girl's pointer finger. Looking more closely one could see small runes shifting on its surface, symbols that were unfamiliar to Valeria. The third item was quickly tied into the leather belt around the old man's waist, a short sword sheathed in a brown leather scabbard with an unextraordinary looking metal handle.

The child's nose wrinkled as the smell of the powder reached her nose, her freckles bunching together. "What is that stuff, Mister?" she asked, looking up at the librarian. It smelled faintly of wax, just barely caught under the stronger smell of earth and something that she couldn't place.

The old man looked toward her, bending down to show her the powder. "Adipocere. Do you know what that is, child?" he asked. Valeria shook her head, regarding him and the powder with more curiosity. "It is graveyard wax and grave dirt," he explained. "Mixed with a powdered amethyst stone."

The girl jerked rather violently backward. "Grave dirt?!" she yelped in disgust and alarm. "Like… from a real body?" she asked, looking as if she'd swallowed something nasty.

"Of course from a _real_ body, silly girl," the old man reprimanded gently. "It will ward my desk while I am gone."

Valeria's brow creased in contemplation. "How will it do that?" she asked, eyeing the unsavoury miture out of the corners of her eyes, as if afraid that it might jump out to attack her. "It's just corpse dirt."

"'Just corpse dirt'," he mimicked her, "had a strong enough effect on you. Why would you think it would not keep back other manner of creatures?" he reasoned.

"Well…" she hesitated, trying to reason it out in her head, "because… I'm a person… and…"

The old man shook his head, "And the stone gives it magical properties, child. Do not be so obtuse."

The child watched him indignantly through thick lashes as he took a handful of the dirt and tossed it into the air where it hung as if caught in a spider's web, making a wall in front of the desk and the office beyond it.

The old man unceremoniously wiped his dirty hand on his plain robe, bringing out the wand and waving obscure shapes into the air in front of the powder. Slowly the powder began to shift, bunching together as if trying to catch the shapes that were no longer visible before spreading out into a large triangle, projecting depressions of the shapes that the librarian had drawn in the air with his wand. The librarian seemed uninterested in what the powder was doing, merely reattaching his wand and securing the powder into one pocket after making sure the lid had been secured. But Valeria was caught, attention rapt, mouth hanging slightly open as bits of sand slowly shifted away from the triangle, casting a net over the entire 'protected' area, leaving a miniature, shrunken version of the triangle with its miniature, shrunken symbols in the centre of the web.

The librarian glanced over at the child, admonishing, "Come, child. You'll catch flies with your mouth hanging open so."

The girl frowned, watching him intently, "But… you did _magic_," she insisted, her words a gasp. "Are you a witch?"

To her surprise the old man laughed, his voice deep and hearty as he bent and propped his hands on his knees. Once he'd regained control he regarded her with a grin full of mirth. "No, Valeria, I am not a witch. That would be a fine thing for me to be, being a man. And I'm no warlock either," he interjected as she opened her mouth to protest. "Though it would not be too far off of the mark in this castle," he chuckled. "But I am merely a man that has learned, throughout the years, to perform a spell or two. Though this is a mere trick compared to other spells."

"But what about all of your books?" she asked, amber eyes wide. "Aren't they yours as well? What if they get taken… or burned down… or splashed with water?"

To her surprise he chuckled again, seeming supremely unconcerned. "They will be fine, child. The creatures around this castle, for the most part, have no interest in books. And neither do- well, needless to say they're safe."

The child looked up at him curiously, her head cocked to one side as if trying to discern what he had kept himself from saying before letting it go. He tightened his grip on her hand and the two figures started off.

The old man, it seemed, knew many shortcuts that Valeria had not noticed upon her arrival into the massive library. It took her what seemed an eternity to traverse the enormous stacks of books whereas it took him, even with winding along stacks of books and taking passageways she hadn't even noticed, perhaps ten minutes to reach the wrought iron gate leading into the main area.

They slipped past the old gate, Valeria only noting now, with a shudder, its spikes sticking out of the top, preventing access by climbing should the gate be locked. Valeria, now with the librarian, once again stepped out onto a platform in front of the bridge spanning the marble and portrait galleries.

Without hesitation the librarian stepped forward onto the bridge but Valeria held back a moment, trying to take a few steps back. The old man looked over to her. "There is nothing that will harm you here, child. Come, let's cross."

The child stopped pulling so vehemently but watched the man cautiously, eyes wide. The old man hesitated before sighing, going back to where the girl was standing. Gently he placed a hand against her shoulder blades and she allowed him to guide her across, her eyes closed tightly.

With her eyes closed and his presence constantly behind her, guiding her, Valeria and the librarian soon reached the end of the bridge. They crossed the short hallway into the large circular room leading to the three separate staircases.

Valeria began to go forward, to the hallway back into the main hall but the old man surprised her, motioning them toward the staircase to their left, which led upward. Valeria walked closely beside the old man as they approached the stone steps.

Valeria looked up, observing the tendrils of fog that curled downward, like fingers stretching for the pair, ready to pull them toward some unseen horror. The fog was made even more eerie by the small white lights that lined the stone wall upward. They were much like the lights in the chandelier hanging above the great circular room they'd just left, but there was just one single light per small stone platform jutting out from high in the wall.

The lights were odd, bobbing up and down serenely, occasionally wavering back and forth, but they cast an ethereal light upward through the fog. As the old man and Valeria kept climbing for what seemed like a lifetime with no windows or change of scenery in sight the child began to focus on other things. She glanced backward only to note that the way they'd come was simply a cavern of darkness, as was the way ahead. Her legs were beginning to ache with the awkward steps, which were wide and shallow, leading her to follow a tiresome pattern of one long step, one short step before stepping up. Trying to divert her attention she focussed on what she sensed around herself. The slight whistling of wind through the staircase, the rough cloth of the old man's robe brushing against her hand every so often, the dampness of the fog that they were travelling through which seemed to settle into her very bones, the odd smell of moisture from the dense cloud.

Abruptly her attention was diverted as a light appeared ahead and a latticed gateway slowly swam into view. The light beyond the gateway was soft and golden, a welcome change from the cool silver light of the passageway. The girl looked up to the old man, who glanced down. "You can go on ahead, child," he encouraged. The reassurance was all that the girl needed to dash up the remaining steps to the doorway and pull on it.

But the door would not move. She tugged on it harder before looking back to the old man who merely smiled serenely, holding out a key for her to take. She offered him a pouting glance, mumbling 'Why didn't you tell me I needed the key?' even as she turned the ornamental object and the gate swung open.

~~~*~~~

The new room they entered was old and dusty, but had a comfort to it that Valeria could not quite describe. Warm, golden light pooled in from the chandeliers and little lanterns that hung from the wall and there were several study desks littered amongst the shelves of books, which stood seemingly at random in squares, four shelves back to back.

"Welcome to the top level of the library, Valeria Tepes," the old man said formally. "This is where we keep all of our personal documents, biographies…" he trailed off as a balding man in a formal suit approached the two. "And the keeper of this level, Mr Falkner."

The man looked human, his thin and receding gray hair covering the top and sides of his head, his skin with an unhealthy, pale sheen and his gray suit all pointed toward a mild mannered scholar. But when he lifted his head to them Valeria gasped and would have fallen backward if the librarian hadn't placed a hand up to support her.

Mr Falkner's eyes were what had marked him as something other than human. His pupils were the iciest blue, surrounded by vivid red where the whites of his eyes should have been, as if blood vessels had ruptured very thoroughly and recently in both of his eyes.

The man did not seem to notice Valeria's discomfort, however, intent upon the librarian. "I have not seen you come up this way for quite some time, Rinaldo," he said in a voice that was a far cry from the demonic tone that Valeria had been half expecting.

The librarian smiled, "Not that you've come to visit me, James. But I have a rather curious circumstance here," he motioned to Valeria. "This young lady is lost. She woke up in the castle here. I must get her to the bedchambers and find some appropriate clothes for her to wear."

"Simply woke up?" the other man chuckled now, "In here? I scarcely doubt, my old friend, that finding her fresh clothing would do her any good," he said, eyeballing Valeria until she shifted under his scrutiny.

Rinaldo held one finger up to his lips in a silencing motion, making Valeria cock her head to one side curiously. "There is a reason that Lord Dracula, or at least Master Adrian, may want to visit with this child, James. But I would ask you to leave further conjecture for a later date, my old friend," Rinaldo stated, his tone slightly sharper as James opened his mouth to speak further.

The man caught the tone and nodded, "As you wish, Rinaldo. Pass on and use the lifts, then. I would ask that you come up here to converse with me more occasionally though," he said, offering the head librarian a slight smile. "I shall pour us a cup of tea upon your return," he offered in a questioning tone.

Rinaldo nodded, offering the other man a slight smile as he passed him with the girl, who was watching the demonic man curiously.

~~~*~~~

The lift was a rickety machine with a crosshatched brass grille in front of it and a lever that could be pulled up or down, depending on where one wanted to go. Valeria very hesitantly stepped into the lift, feeling it wobble with even her slight weight, causing her to nervously grip the grille.

The librarian, Rinaldo, stepped delicately inside and the box dipped noticeably downward. Valeria gasped, but the old man didn't even seem to notice. He glanced down at the girl and stated, "We are going to be going up a level. I would take my hands off of the grille bars if I were you."

The child jerked back small hands as if she had been shocked, moving to stand as a rough, grating sound of metal upon metal was heard upon the librarian moving the lever up. She was sharply brought back down to her knees as she began to stand, her stomach feeling as if it had shot up into her throat as the small box skyrocketed upward.

They stopped as suddenly as they'd begun. The box lurched to a stop, nearly tossing the librarian across the lift as it did so. Dishevelled, the librarian pushed back the grille with nimble fingers and stepped out, helping Valeria exit the lift a moment later before closing the grille.

It was immediately apparent that this level was much different from the one that the pair had previously inhabited. A long, windowless hall stretched before them, a deep purple carpet laid under their feet, thick with dust and wear, and doors of dark red wood lined the hall while golden lanterns above flooded the area liberally with warmth infusing light.

Rinaldo guided the child gently through the hallway, past rooms with closed doors which all looked exactly the same along a windowless corridor that was a mirror of itself, segment past segment with a set of double doors a fair distance away marking the end. Finally, just as the child was starting to believe the double doors at the end were their destination, they reached a particular door and Rinaldo stopped the child with a light touch on her shoulder.

The door fell open easily, revealing a large room with simple furnishing. Cold stone floor was covered with a large, burgundy plush rug that lay across the room. A bed stood in one corner, the mattress much different than the small horse hair pallet that she had at home. The square oak headboard gleamed in the small circle of light shed by the golden lantern overtop of them and the woollen blankets were a simple cream, the set matching nicely with the oak writing desk and set of drawers on the other side of the room and the creamy feather quill and ink set with copper holders.

Rinaldo led Valeria to a door just beside the entrance, however, where an ensuite provided a bathroom. A porcelain tub stood to one side, and an empty chamber pot sat at the corner opposite the end of the tub.

"I am going to have a maid come in to wash you up, Valeria," began Rinaldo, "and we will see what clothes I will be able to find you that are," he paused, glancing at her, "clean, and not ripped. Whilst you are bathing I need to speak to someone, child. I will not be long. Can you stay here for a moment?"

Valeria nodded, shifting nervously as she did so. She wanted to know who it was so urgent for the man to speak to, but knew that it would be terribly rude to ask.

Rinaldo nodded, ruffled her hair lightly, and exited the room.

~~~*~~~

As Rinaldo exited the bedroom that Valeria currently resided in a woman sat trembling in a beautiful garden against the backdrop of a castle.

Lisa Tepes went over the events of the past day. She had heard her daughter, Valeria, yell something about her son, Adrian, being injured while they were in their home just outside of Cordova Town. She had rushed in to the kitchen in time to see him collapse and then…

She had no idea what had happened. She didn't remember an attack, did not remember being carried anywhere, she had simply woken up. It wasn't as if she was near anywhere she knew, either. The closest castle was several towns down, a good few hours' carriage ride. And, she wondered, why bring her all of this distance to place her in a garden, alive and well? Where were her husband, son, and daughter?

She had pulled herself into a sitting position, cautiously peering around, trying to see either her attackers or possible help. She tried to see if there was a town near her location, but could neither see nor hear nothing through the trees and knew better than to go wandering in a strange forest, especially as she did not even know if there would be a town.

Eventually Lisa had resigned herself to an attempt at entering the castle, which had proved fruitless, as had her calls for help. Instead, she wandered the garden, trying to find some clue as to where she was and, with any luck, might catch a glimpse of someone or a town below. It had been several hours since, however, and no further information was forthcoming. She had merely wound up where she had begun.

As rain began to fall, small droplets giving way to larger ones, she huddled at the base of a stone just at the entry of the forest, which offered at least some protection. She was shivering from the cold, hunger was starting to gnaw at her stomach, and she was worried for her family. The garden was beautiful. Blood red roses clung to the side of the building, soft purple lavender grew along the edges of the garden, with various plants dotted around the landscape. Rocks dotted the land as well, thickly overgrown by branches and moss.

Lisa looked sideways at these strange stones. They were thin, oddly shaped stones set in rows, almost as if they'd been deliberately placed there, and each was about three feet tall. The woman's brow creased as she looked at these stones, a realisation slowly forming in her mind. A shiver ran down her back that had nothing to do with the cold. Lisa slowly removed the branches and debris of ages from the rock she'd sheltered under, which was surrounded by curling vines, and carefully planted flowers that the other graves lacked.

The name appeared, clear as daylight, on the tombstone she'd uncovered. A simple grey stone, it was etched with dates of birth and death that were mostly rubbed off by time, occurring some time in the 1400s, but as Lisa spied the name she gasped, falling back on her heels, mouth covered by her hands. There, etched carefully into the tombstone, was the name 'Lisa Tepes'.


	6. Discoveries

**Chapter 6**

**Discoveries  
**

Rinaldo approached the lift at the end of the hallway slowly after assuring that a servant was tending to the child. He had originally dismissed the girl as a drop off, probably of some religious faction which had no desire to finish their dirty work. Certainly, until she had mentioned who she was he had not viewed her as anyone worthy of Vlad or Adrian's attentions. But the revelation of her name, of her family, had placed him off guard.

The servant that the girl had been placed with was the usual kind. A silent maiden that appeared wholly human, dressed in the traditional black starched dress and white apron of a maid, usually with a feather duster in hand and hair pulled back in a restrictive bun. But these maids were of mixed lineage, experiments that had taken many trials and errors to correctly produce so that by the time they took on their duties the sliver of demonic blood in them created the silence, strength, and agility of their demonic ancestry with the appearance of their stronger human ancestry.

Still, Rinaldo saw the situation as safe. These creatures were raised from a young age to obey every order. The girl would not be seen as an enemy. Rinaldo looked up, discovering himself at the brass grate to the lift. He pushed it open a little too forcefully, hearing it clang even as he pulled the lever up, bringing him to the next level of the castle.

Upon reaching the upper level, however, he paused. How would he tell Vlad what had happened? How could he tell Vlad, after everything that had happened with Adrian, that a girl claiming to be his daughter with seemingly no idea of her unique- or nearly unique- ancestry was wandering around in a ripped dress in the library with no idea of where she was?

Vlad would not accept the girl, of that much he was positive. But he had sensed that the girl was genuine. She was telling the truth, unusual though it was, and if he was correct in his assumption that she did not know what she was, however the truth had been kept from her, she would not survive simply being turned back out. She would not survive the humans.

To take the child to Adrian, however, would pose an entirely new set of problems. The half-breed was not yet recovered and was still weak not only physically, but mentally. He had heard the man raving about this other life he had been leading, the wife he'd had, and of Lisa's life.

Rinaldo was drawn out of his reverie when barely audible footsteps shuffling across threadbare carpet over stone floors caught his attention. The old man had expected to discover some monster, but instead discovered none other than Adrian watching him from hooded eyes. The man had grown painfully thin during his poisoning because his body had accepted no form of sustenance, not even water. The champagne eyes were still brilliant, and his gaunt face seemed only to heighten the sense of delicacy that the dhampire exuded.

Rinaldo knew that the man standing before him had either not yet begun to make significant recovery or he had meant to alert Rinaldo to his presence. The dhampire moved silently when he wished, silent as a ghost through the ancient hallways of the castle. The blonde man was dressed in a simple white shirt of fine linen and soft brown breeches, and his hair hung in damp, curling strands across his shoulders and down his back.

As he approached the old man Rinaldo smelled rose water and lavender from a recent bath, the slight leftover scent of some meal, the unmistakeable scent of illness. "Rinaldo?" the man asked softly. His voice was light, sounding more as if he'd been woken from a nap than wandering the hallways after waking from a coma.

"How are you feeling, young master?" the old man asked kindly. "You look much better than you were."

Adrian nodded his head, "Much better," he parroted slowly, bringing a hand down through his pale hair.

"You were speaking to Master Dracula," Rinaldo observed, gesturing to the throne room the man had just left.

"Yes, yes I was," Adrian confirmed, suddenly sounding much more lucid. "I… there were some things I wished to clear up. I am returning to my chambers for a time, though. Come. Walk with me."

Rinaldo felt a rush of trepidation as a ball in his stomach as he followed the man wordlessly back into the lift, allowing him to take the old man back down to the chambers. Rinaldo's tension came to a head as Adrian stopped and his brow creased, seeming to study something on the floor a moment before crouching down slowly.

Adrian stood up again, holding a yellow woollen string that had fallen on the floor beside some small footprints in the dust of the hallway. "Who is here? Who made these?" Adrian asked, brow creasing. "These footprints are…"

"They, Adrian-" began Rinaldo haltingly as the dhampire followed the dusty prints to a doorway further down the hall.

"Father… did he bring a child…?" Adrian asked suspiciously. Vlad had always thought that the notion of feeding from a child was disgusting. It was not that he had any particular affinity for them, he had killed enough of them in his reign as the Voivode Vlad the Impaler, but for whatever reason he had always found the idea of feeding from them repulsive.

"No, Adrian. You know your father does not take children," Rinaldo began patiently. "I do not know how the child arrived-"

Adrian cut him off again, "You were going to inform father?" The words were more of a statement than a question. But Adrian felt hope spring in his chest. Valeria, if he remembered correctly, was wearing yellow when he had left. He scarcely allowed himself to hope that it was her. But if it was… What if his mother were here? He could prove to Vlad that this was real. Lisa could try to fix him and end the war that he had instigated so many years past.

Adrian did not wait for a response from the old man, choosing instead to enter the room. Warmth, humidity, and the scent of rose and lavender hit his nose as he entered, accompanied by the slight sounds of something moving in water.

He turned to his right, entering the small bathroom without knocking in time to see a young girl being wrapped up in a fire warmed towel by a maid.

Familiar platinum locks curled down her back as Valeria hugged her towel close, shivering as the door opened and a waft of cool air entered the room, spilling across the flagstone floor and swirling upwards to dissipate the warmth that the bath had created. The girl turned toward the doorway, amber eyes coming to rest on Adrian.

A smile spread across her lips and her eyes lit up excitedly as she turned to fully face him. "Adrian!" she exclaimed, running up to him and hugging him tightly, wrapping thin arms around his waist. "I couldn't find you anywhere and I was so scared! Where are mama and papa?"

Adrian opened his mouth, then shut it again slowly as if unable to process that she was here, real, in this castle. "Valeria," he began placatingly, "I- they-"

His words caught in his throat and he found himself having difficulty speaking to the girl. The presence of the maid frustrated him. He could feel the silent woman's eyes on the pair, even if she did not disrupt the private scene. He fought the rising anger in his chest, instead looking up at the girl in the maid's uniform. "Could you leave us?" he requested civilly, the pent up frustration of the last several hours once again rising in him.

It had not been a full day since he had returned, gazing up at his father from a cold stone altar, but already the world he had grown to love seemed an eternity away. For all reality it was an eternity, unreachable as it was tangible to Adrian. Except now a symbol from that world stood against him, her hair soaking into his fine linen shirt, her breath warming his chest, her heart fluttering like a bird in a cage against his stomach.

The maid left as silently as she had arrived, joining Rinaldo near the writing desk in the bedroom and both respectfully concentrated elsewhere, neither bringing their attentions to the bathroom.

Adrian brought his arms around Valeria, resting one on her shoulder and placing the other against the back of her head, twining his fingers gently in the soft, damp locks before letting her go as she loosened her grip around him.

He knelt down to her level, placing a hand gently on her shoulder as his eyes drank in her familiar appearance, her slight form, high cheekbones, the smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, full lips. His eyes darted upward and he froze upon seeing an intense and unnatural amber not unlike his own where he had expected to see a dark coffee brown.

His hand turned leaden against her shoulder and an icy, heavy sensation swept across him, pricking his skin with goose bumps as more features became clear to him. The sharp edge to her nails, keen enough to slice through flesh, skin sickly pale even in the golden light pooling around the bathroom, the features that had been tweaked and modified to a deceptive beauty that no human could achieve.

He released a breath he had not realised he'd been holding and gently grasped her left arm with his right hand, pulling her into an embrace against him. She laid a small hand upon his chest, the other still hanging limply where Adrian held it.

She was afraid of his obvious fear, his silence, and his actions. "Adrian?" she asked gently, her voice wavering, "What's wrong, Adrian? Are you okay? Where are mama and papa?" she repeated her earlier question, unsuccessfully attempting to squirm out of his grip.

The realisation struck Adrian that she did not know anything had changed. She did not realise that she had changed. He had trouble imagining another dhampire in the castle, especially one that would do this to the girl, change the child. Apart from her he was an only child. Dracula had confessed to never having had other children in the long years before he'd met Lisa. If she hadn't been bitten, then how did she become a dhampire?

The thought flashed through his mind that perhaps it was the same way he himself was only half human. Her father was Vlad Tepes, and the human Vlad Tepes did not exist in this reality. Neither did Lisa, and she hadn't for four hundred years though the child standing before him was only eight.

Perhaps she had somehow been brought over, that had somehow changed her… He loosened his grip slightly and looked into her eyes. "Are you okay, Valeria?" he asked seriously, gently brushing the fingers of the hand formerly holding her arm across a cool cheek. "Have you been injured?"

She wrinkled her nose slightly, "No, Adrian. Do I look hurt?" she asked, watching him owlishly, head cocked to one side. "_You_ look different. What happened to your eyes? And why are you so pale?" she asked, "Are you sick?"

He shook his head slowly, "No, Valeria. I am not sick," he said softly, cupping her cheek briefly before standing. "Come; let us find you some proper clothes. I am not sure we will be able to find you a dress on such short notice, but if worst comes to worst you can wear some trousers and a shirt."

"Adrian, what is this place?" she asked, "Where are we? Can't we just go home?"

"I am sorry, Valeria," he said wearily, his tone soft as he placed his hand against one towel covered shoulder, leading her to the door, "We cannot go home right now. We are," he paused, searching for an appropriate term, "being kept here," he finally continued, "for a time."

The child immediately opened her mouth to protest but Adrian squeezed her shoulder, making her look up at him as he held a finger to his lips in a silencing gesture. "We will speak later," he promised as they exited the bathroom.

~~~*~~~

Adrian led her silently from the room she had been stationed in, glancing back once to where Rinaldo and the maid sat, a silent indication that he did not wish to be followed.

They entered a room freshly done up, the covers a deep burgundy and the accents shades of crimsons and purples. The room did not have a great many personal effects, merely a soft linen nightshirt lying on the bed, a half written letter in an elegant hand lying on the handsome writing desk, and night cloak of brown, fur lined wool. To Valeria, though, the room was distinctly Adrian. His scent was unique, but for the first time she could place the notes that reminded her of nightfall and soil mingled with the water and floral scent from his earlier bath. The scent comforted her and reminded her of home, if only a little.

Adrian slipped his hands under her arms, lifting her gently up and onto the high bed, watching as she curled her legs underneath herself and settled onto the covers. "I do not think," he began, moving to the large set of drawers against the far wall and opening a bottom most drawer, "that there is anything for a young girl kept here, but if you would not mind wearing trousers..."

The girl wrinkled her nose, "Trousers, Adrian?" she asked in a moody voice, close to a whine. Adrian looked over at the girl. She was tired, that much was easy to tell, and had just been put through a great amount of stress. What he had not counted on was crankiness, an aspect of raising the child that was designated to Lisa.

He stood, looking with slight condescension at the fruitless chest of drawers. "Yes, Valeria, trousers," he strode to the bed, pulling a few strands of her pale, curling hair behind one of her ears, feeling how the ear peaked before curving to the lobe, a characteristic of vampire blood, but hardly noticeable on her, as with him. "There are no dresses here that would fit you, my pet," he said, endearing her with the nickname he had heard Vlad and Lisa use, "and your little yellow dress is ruined. I promise that as soon as we can we will get you a new dress, but for now will you please act agreeable for me? Help me out?" he said, trying to appeal to her.

She peered into his eyes, hesitantly softening and nodding, "Fine, fine. I'll wear the trousers."

Adrian nodded, resting a hand on her shoulder briefly before leaving, returning a few minutes later with a child sized set of white linen breeches, fine woven black woollen hose, a long sleeved white linen shirt, and a black brocade kirtle with golden embroidery.

He left the girl to pull on the breeches and shirt, helping her pull on the hose, which had leather soles to act as shoes, belt, and kirtle which were not only made for a man, but made in the style of the 1400s in which Lisa had lived and was the style to which Dracula still subscribed.

Once he had finished the diminutive girl looked very much like a son of past nobility, striking with her vibrant amber eyes and porcelain complexion. Adrian pulled her hair back from her face, braiding it gently so that it fell down her back neatly, little hairs escaping and curling softly around her face.

Adrian stepped back and nodded to himself, seemingly under the impression that that would do. "Let us get you something to eat, shall we?" he asked the child, the smallest of smiles given to her by the man which prompted a shy smile of her own, and she nodded.

He opened the door to his bedroom, leading her out of the room and down the hallway to a door about halfway down the long corridor that looked completely nondescript, like every other door leading down.

This door, however, did not lead to another bedroom but to a short stone hallway which lead to a heavy wooden door that did not at all resemble the elegant doors of the private chambers. This door was made of heavy slats of dark brown wood nailed together, a door which groaned and sent puffs of dust upward as it moved.

Valeria sneezed, wrinkling her nose and clenching her eyes shut momentarily as the dust hit her, making Adrian chuckle. "You are fine. This door just has not been used for many years," he explained, leading her inside.

"How do you know so much about this place, Adrian?" the girl asked, wide eyed.

Adrian hesitated, "I… stayed here once," he decided to say, finally. He did not want to lie to the girl, but he felt that, in this circumstance, the whole truth would be less prudent an offering. He would tell her everything eventually, but not yet. And the statement was not a total lie.

"For now," said Adrian, "come. Let us eat. You look as if you could use a good meal."

~~~*~~~

The dining chamber was a large stone-walled room with a huge, rough crafted wooden table dominating the centre and plain wooden chairs surrounding it with a high backed chair, presumably for the owner of the castle, at one end. Adrian sat Valeria down at a chair near the head of the table and disappeared behind one door, coming out a moment later with a five-sided silver goblet which held water inside. The girl took it from Adrian as soon as it was offered, eager for the cool water to parch her throat.

The simple meal consisted of some cold meat, a few choice vegetables and some buttered bread that arrived only a moment later on a plain ceramic plate.

It did not take the child long to finish these morsels and she turned to watch Adrian watching her, his look contemplative. He realised she was returning his gaze with a hint of impatience and stood. "Is there anything else you would like?" he asked, his voice deep, calm and cultured.

She shook her head no. "We should try to find mother and father, Adrian," she suggested, her voice holding the slightest hint of reproof.

"There is something you must know, Valeria. Father-" he began slowly.

Her eyes grew concerned, "What is it, Adrian? Is he hurt?"

His tongue snaked up, wetting his lips as he considered his next course of action. "No, Valeria, he is not hurt. But he has… suffered," the man said delicately, "And he is not himself."

"Can a doctor not tend to him?" she asked, brows creasing.

"This is not something that can be cured by a physician," Adrian tried to explain. "I will tell you what. If you can be good and wait patiently in my bedroom I will speak to father and will judge if he is… well enough to come and visit you."

The child looked about to argue the point but instead exhaled in a slightly exasperated manner, nodding in agreement.

~~~*~~~

Adrian found himself regretting his offer to make Vlad aware of the situation the closer that he came toward the throne room. He knew that the vampire would have to be made aware of the situation soon enough, but every moment that he could delay from informing the vampire would be a moment longer that, in his viewpoint, he might be able to keep his sanity.

The vampire would most surely not take this new news without a proper amount of scoffing and perhaps even anger and worse yet, Adrian was hard pressed to imagine the man accepting the child.

He had left Valeria in his room only a few moments earlier and had to trust that she would not slip out to go exploring.

Vlad was sitting on his throne as the dhampire entered the throne room. The vampire was resplendent in a white, ruffled linen shirt, red, leather lined silk vest and black brocade, ermine fur lined kirtle of a long style, which trailed nearly to his feet. His hose were simple, drawing attention to his torso, leading up to the bright, crimson eyes which were a striking feature in his face, with its sharply pointed ears, blue tinged flesh and gaunt, aristocratic features.

"I have heard of an odd tale, Adrian," he began before the man could even open his mouth and Adrian felt his throat plummet to his stomach.

He swallowed with some difficulty, his own intense golden gaze meeting that of the vampire. "A tale, father?" he asked, schooling his face to one of polite curiosity.

"A young boy, wandering the castle. I have been told that it is as if you yourself were a child once more," the vampire stated, evaluating his son through narrowed eyes.

"Not… a young boy…" the man began slowly, finally exhaling a breath he had not realised he'd been holding. "A young girl, dressed in my childhood clothing. The child that I mentioned earlier, father. Valeria."

Vlad's expression turned ugly, as if could not decide whether to be angry or concerned for his son. "That was a dream, Adrian," he said, half muttering, "Nothing but a dream."

"But it was not, father! Her arrival proves it!" Adrian insisted, taking a placating step toward his father. "You do not believe, but if you are willing to be open minded, then come and see."

Vlad hesitantly rose from his throne, looking wary. "Yes, I believe that may be the best course of action," he admitted slowly.

~~~*~~~

Lisa was brought into the castle; she was a slight woman, her hair limp and wet from the rain and eyes wide in her face. It had been two large, armoured guards of the castle with no voice or no face that had caught her, something she had discovered upon flipping the face guard up.

She was terrified. She had found herself outside of this ancient castle several hours earlier without a soul in sight, only a well kept garden and a foreboding looking door.

She had been left, cold and alone, when the rain began to drizzle down on her and had sheltered behind a stone in the overgrown garden, discovering her own name etched on to the grave stone when she had removed the vines and leaves.

The guards had come not long after she had sunk to the ground and had lifted their axes high above their heads; they were ready to attack her when something had stilled them. A man, an old man with a long silver beard in rough brown robes had sternly told them to capture her, not to injure her, to bring her to the throne room.

And so she was brought to this point, being carted unceremoniously through labyrinth rooms with untold horrors, past corridors where monsters loomed threateningly out of the shadows and up to a huge room which held a large, ornate throne, a chandelier that must have cost more than her home, and a gigantic, threadbare area rug. There was no lord, no king, nor any being of any sort upon this throne.

The old man from before was in the room though, and he beckoned her to a seat, gesturing for the monsters with the impossibly strong grips to release her.

"How did you command those things?" asked Lisa, her face as pale as her flaxen hair.

"I am a denizen of this castle," the man stated, "The head librarian, actually. But I am a confidante to the master of this castle. You do not recognise me, my lady?"

"Why should I?" Lisa demanded. "And what were those creatures we saw on the way? Demons…" Lisa murmured, "They were horrible."

"They won't hurt you, my lady," Rinaldo stated in a soothing voice.

Lisa looked up absently, "How did you know that they had gotten me? How could you tell?" she asked, her voice soft and curious.

"I know much of what goes on in this castle," he said placidly, "and the news that I do not yet know travels quickly. These creatures are usually found guarding the area to my library. I suppose that you could say I have developed an innate sense for determining when I am needed. Though I must say that this is a highly unusual day, I have scarcely had need to leave my library before."

Lisa nodded slowly, and then a thought seemed to come in to her mind. "I am looking for my husband and children. Have you seen them? A man, taller than you or I by about a head, greying hair? His name is Vlad-" she began, stopping when the old man held up his hand in a quelling motion.

"I must speak to someone," Rinaldo said calmly, interrupting her, "who may know the whereabouts of one or more of the members of your family. I must leave for a moment, and," he stated firmly, as he saw her rise, "I must ask you not to accompany me."

Lisa watched him, looking almost mutinous. "And what harm would me accompanying you bring?" she asked.

Rinaldo seemed to hesitate, "As long as you insist on following me, my lady, I cannot leave."

Lisa appeared suspicious, "And this person would know of my family's location?"

Rinaldo again hesitated, "I believe so, my lady."

~~~*~~~

Adrian stopped Vlad once they reached the dhampire's bedroom door. "Father…" he began hesitantly, "If you could just… be easy on her. She does not know about any of this. Not… what she is, not what who she is means in this world. She does not even know whose castle she is in. Please, if you cannot be gentle with her… just let her be," he requested quietly, his gaze fixed on the man's collarbone, seeming unwilling to raise his eyes to meet those of the vampire.

Vlad remained silent for a moment before turning on his heel and twisting open the knob leading to the room, neither confirming nor denying his son's request.

He laid eyes on the child almost immediately. She seemed to have fallen asleep in the wait for the two and lay in the middle of the bed, curled into a loose ball. Her likeness to Adrian was immediately prevalent, not that she was masculine. Adrian had been a particularly effeminate child and with the girl wearing the clothes of a young boy the similarities between the two were striking.

What she was was evident to Vlad almost immediately as well. Her hair pulled back into a braid revealed slightly pointed ears, her pallor resembled alabaster and there was not a blemish on her skin.

The door closed with a soft thud and golden eyes fluttered sleepily open. "Papa?" she murmured softly, pushing herself up into a sitting position and blinking in an effort to focus on the man. The situation that she was in seemed to war with her exhaustion but as adrenaline flooded her body again she became swiftly more alert.

"I am Vlad Tepes, child. Dracula," the vampire stated firmly, watching her with a critical eye. "And I presume that you call yourself Valeria Tepes."

The girl's eyebrows knitted. Adrian went to take a step forward but held himself back, watching the interaction between the two closely. "Of course I call myself Valeria Tepes. That is my name, papa," she said, her voice rising in pitch just incrementally, "and I know you're Vlad Tepes. But I've heard the name Dracula before, and I don't know it. The librarian, Mr Rinaldo-"

"This is my castle. Dracula is the name the common people know me by," he interrupted in a clipped tone, trying to keep his patience with the child and to keep her from becoming emotional.

"Common people… we are common, papa. You never told me we had a castle. Why did you bring me here?" she said, trying to suppress a demanding whine from her tone.

Dracula's expression soured, his crimson eyes narrowing. "I did not _bring_ you here, child," he just refrained from spitting at her. "And I do not know who did."

The child's eyes widened and she sniffled, "Are you okay?" she asked, her voice just above a whisper. "I didn't mean to make you angry, papa. I was just asking… But you look so different, and you're acting different, and it's like you don't know me."

Vlad repressed, with difficulty, the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. He had little experience dealing with children and the last one he had dealt with, his own son, had not been a child for four hundred years. "I do not look _different_," he stated delicately, his ego somewhat pricked, "I look much the same as I always have."

"No," she insisted, "Both you and Adrian look a lot different from before."

"From before when?" asked Dracula, wrinkling his nose slightly and glancing at his son. He now had an idea where this was going.

"From even this morning!" the girl insisted more vehemently than before. "You're pale and your eyes are different and even your clothes. You've _never_ worn a cloak. You always insisted they were fri- friv-" she tried the word again on her tongue.

"Frivolous," Adrian supplied quickly, finally speaking up. "Father, I think it is best if-"

"It is quite fitting," the vampire interrupted his son, "for nobility, however, especially one of my stature. How would it look? A vampire wandering about in peasant clothing."

The child sniffled again, her expression wide eyed. "You're not, papa. You're not a- a _vampire_," the girl's voice was tiny and afraid.

"Oh, you would know, would you?" Vlad scoffed, "You are not exactly a shining example of humanity either, are you?"

"I am. I'm not a vampire, I'm _not!_" she cried, her eyes shining now with unshed tears.

"No, you are not. But as I said, you are not exactly human, either," Vlad said silkily.

"I don't know what you mean. What are you talking about?" she pleaded. "I'm not a monster!"

"Father," Adrian's voice was nearly a growl, "that is _enough_!"

"I am done, Adrian," Vlad shot a look of contempt at the child and then offered a smile, just enough to display a flash of his fangs, "I suggest you ask your brother if you want to know what I am talking about."

With those words Vlad turned on his heel, shutting the door loudly behind himself.

~~~*~~~

Valeria swallowed hard, trying to wipe the tears from her eyes. Adrian sighed and sat down beside her, rubbing her back in a comforting manner. "We're not _really_ monsters, Adrian, are we?" she asked, her voice had dropped to nearly a whisper. "I don't _feel_ evil."

"You are not evil, Valeria, not unless you choose to become so," Adrian stated firmly, then more slowly, "but… father was telling the truth. You are no longer _fully_ human."

Adrian cast his glance aside, as if he did not want to witness her reaction to this news, but the arm that had formerly been rubbing soothing circles into her back pulled her closer to him. "Then what am I?" she asked, her voice barely audible and was shaking. "How did I…"

"What you are now," Adrian said, resting his chin on the top of her head, "is the child of a vampire and a human, called a dhampire. You saw how father had changed, and that is why, and it is the same thing for myself as well. As for how, I cannot answer that. You have heard the tales, how vampires make their victims like themselves. This did not happen to you, nor to I."

"How do you know all of this?" Valeria asked, worming her way to sit up on his lap and laying her head against his chest.

Adrian seemed reluctant to answer her question, "Do you remember when I was… sick, Valeria? When I said all of those things?"

"Mama wouldn't let me in the room," Valeria said a bit morosely, "but I heard her and papa and Maria talking about it. You said… you couldn't be here, this wasn't right, that you had to defeat papa," she shuddered.

"I know you have known me as your brother all of these years, Valeria, and I am now but… those were truly my memories. I am back to what I knew before, to what I was speaking of when you assumed I was in fever delusion. I had never known what true humanity was like until a few weeks past now," he murmured. "I suppose the only thing is that when I was brought back… I brought you back with me. For that I am truly sorry."

"Why? I didn't want to leave you, Adrian. Why are you sorry?" she asked, her brow creasing.

"Valeria-" Adrian began, his voice a sigh. But he did not receive the opportunity to complete his statement as the door swung open to reveal Rinaldo.

"Young master," he requested with a gentle urgency, "I need to see you a moment. It is, I fear, important."

Adrian silently nodded, and gathered the child from his lap and into his arms before once again placing her amongst the plush feather covers of the bedding and exiting the room.

Rinaldo faced Adrian, "Your father is in his room but only briefly. We must stop him entering the throne room. Much in the same way as the girl, Adrian, your mother has returned. I discovered her in the gardens outside. She does not remember the castle at all, an oversight on my part when I brought her to the throne room."

Adrian wetted his lips before speaking, "And her state?"

"She is well. Scared, obviously, but she is uninjured and… unaltered," he stated delicately. "I suggest you speak to her before Vlad does."

~~~*~~~

Adrian stopped before the large throne room door, peeking inside almost childishly before pulling open one of the huge double doors and stepping inside.

Lisa's first impression of the man who walked in was that he was like a vision. His face was perfectly sculpted, effeminate and flawless, matching alabaster and at sharp contrast with fierce golden eyes and long, wavy platinum hair that curled delicately about his face like a gilded frame. He was tall and dressed generously in the softest of linens and wools with a dark brown brocade kirtle matching embroidery in golden thread. This finery looked like something out of an old history portrait from the 1400s or 1500s. He almost did not strike the woman as his own son.

"Adrian?" she asked, her voice a gasp, half standing.

"Yes, mother, it is me," he said, talking a slow, cautious step toward her again.

"Adrian, love, what's happened to you? Are you alright? You… you are so terribly pale," she murmured, closing the space between them and compassionately checking Adrian's forehead for fever before cupping his cool cheek.

"Mother…" he closed his eyes, allowing her contact before breathing deeply and stepping back, feeling his heart clench as he stepped away from her. "Mother, there is something that you need to know…"

"This castle, Adrian," she said, her voice still warm but scared and thin, "there are monsters here. We must escape this place! Your father and sister, Maria, if we are here then they could also be."

"Valeria and father are safe, mother. I promise they are safe. But we cannot leave," Adrian said firmly, scooping Lisa's hand up and clutching it in both of his own.

"Mother, let me get you to a room. Come, I promise you will not be harmed. You need some food and rest, and I will bring father and Valeria to you," he urged her gently forward, "Come now, mother, please."

~~~*~~~

Adrian led the woman gently down the hall, hurrying her into one of the spare bedrooms before rushing down the hall and returning a moment later with a floor length linen night dress for the woman and a brush made of horse hair bristles.

"I will be back with some dinner shortly, mother. Do not leave this room," he said gently, kissing the woman's forehead once before turning to leave.

"Be careful, Adrian," she burst out, gripping his wrist, "and mind those creatures…"

"I promise, mother," he murmured, gently untangling himself from her grasp, "I will be careful. Nothing will harm me."

~~~*~~~

Vlad watched the figure of his sleeping wife with an expression Adrian had not witnessed on him in four hundred years. He seemed unwilling to wake the woman, as if she may merely be an illusion and he ran his fingers gently over her hair, tracing a brow with one finger. His expression was set in a mixture of grief and wonder, his brow creased and his lips slightly parted.

He slid his hand underneath hers slowly, allowing her to fold her hand around his fingers naturally in her sleep. Trying not to move too much he pulled a chair up to himself and slid down into it in the fashion of a man who has been much aggrieved and wearied.

"How is it that this can be?" he asked, addressing the man who was standing slightly behind him. "How can she truly be returned to me?"

Rinaldo was standing with his hands clasped in front of himself, eyes lowered respectively to the flagstone floor. He opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it quickly as Dracula spoke.

"Do not tell me of miracles, Rinaldo, when all of the spell books and arcane magics of ages past could not bring her back to me. Adrian spoke of another world," he said, inclining his head slightly to the man standing just inside the doorway.

"There are theories, Master, of other dimensions. Worlds past our own world, and offshoots of our own world that never came to be, such as people that never were existing or choices never made being chosen, and vice versa," he began. "I suppose that creatures once human such as you or myself, or creatures inextricably locked with the human world, however powerful, do not have means or access to these secret worlds. A creature such as Death, it is said, might well have. It is the spirit of vengeance that sent young Master Adrian to the place which he has described.

It may be easier to see these worlds as opposing sides of a magnet. Certain events in each world repel each other and they split. I can only fathom a guess but considering how you shaped this world in many ways perhaps if you did not exist, at least not in your present form, in that world it would be a large enough change to cause such a splinter, or a dimensional rift, if you will. Vengeance brought Adrian to that world, but put the power in your hands to bring him back, linking the worlds as if the magnets were placed facing each other yet not touching.

When you decided to bring Adrian back you moved those magnets briefly together, giving you the ability to bring Adrian, or his consciousness, at least, back across the rift. My best theory," he stated, now looking over at Adrian, "is that your consciousness, held in that world, was still strong enough that when you tried to hold on and prevent returning to this dimension your mind focused on what you most wanted from this other world, your family. Between the both of you a link was made between both worlds, a link strong enough to accommodate Adrian's wishes not to leave this family behind, but not strong enough, with the pull from your mind, Vlad, to complete his wish of staying in this other world."

Finally Adrian spoke up; his voice sounded soft and broke slightly, as if he were dealing with a cold. "Father and I have bodies in this world, Rinaldo. My mother-"

"-Has a body here already," Rinaldo finished the man's sentence. "Why else would she have appeared where she did? The girl, who possessed no body here, I can only suppose ended wherever a higher power, be it the chaos that rules this castle or Vengeance herself, chose to place her. For yourself and even Vlad, it fits that the consciousness travelling across this void would simply take residence in the living, or undead," he acknowledged Vlad with a slight smile, "bodies that you both already occupy. As neither of you are human, or at least not fully, your consciousness would overtake that of the weaker human mind. Though I am not sure how far this consciousness might extend, you technically are the same people with differing life experiences. It may be thoughts, emotions, or memories that you did not know you possessed being the extent of the changes offered to you or it may be more overt than that."

"Will she know of me when she wakes?" Vlad broke the silence that had settled like a smothering blanket over the room upon the librarian's last statement.

"That," stated the librarian hesitantly, "I cannot say. I…"

"I need to know the truth, Rinaldo," Vlad said softly, his eyes still having not left the prone woman in the bed.

"I could only assume that… that she would not, my lord," the old man said softly, keeping his eyes on the floor, "but I cannot state anything as fact until my lady wakes."

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Wow, so _SUPER_ long chapter- I hope that assauges the soreness of a long wait for the 'publication', and I hope that it is not TOO long! I have to say, writing this is super fun and I have very much been enjoying reviews- feedback really is the highest form of flattery, so _thank you_.

Wonder what Lisa's reaction will be upon waking... I will try to have the next chapter out much sooner everyone!

Disclaimer- you should know by now. But for the particularly slow, I do not own Castlevania. Obviously.


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